when in doubt, bleach it out
by paper piper
Summary: a collection, various pairings and themes. continuous. NOW REQUEST-BASED. / ch. 54: Inoue finds Ishida's baby pics. -Ishihime
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I'm addicted to Bleach fanfiction, it's official. They're shooting off like firecrackers in my brain. And I'm only on Season five. More will follow, I assure you.

A/N: This is a drabble collection. I'll update pretty regularly, if not like every hour or something. Various themes, pairings, times, possibly even an AU thrown in at random. All for fun, so no apologies. And if you have an idea for a drabble or something you'd like to see, just let me know via private message. I'll see what I can do.

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**Drabble Collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: absolute powers corrupts absolutely

**Summary**: The proud last Quincy bows his head to her. –Yoshino/Ishida

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Maybe it was just pop culture, but in his dreams (_nightmares?_) she smelled like blood. But she looked like moonlight on brown hair, in grey eyes, skin that looked too fresh and alive to be so old.

She'd called him the "last, proud Quincy," and smiled at him, thinking he couldn't understand.

_I do, though—!_ He wanted to say. _I understand feeling out of place, I understand how love can be poisoned!_

"Do you still love him?" he'd asked.

His gut was in his throat, his heart was on his sleeve. For the first time, he really felt like nothing more than a boy, standing with a girl. Though this was anything but that.

She did not meet his eye. (—_Why don't you meet my eye?)_

"Perhaps there never was love to begin with."

And he knew that yes, she did, she still loved him very much despite everything like lies like death like the all-consuming allure of power—

_Does power poison love?_

—And he couldn't stop himself from thinking that night, holding her in his arms while she died, that he felt very powerless indeed, and also very much in love.

_Do we trade power for love, love for power? _

He thought he'd trade his Quincy powers, his intellect, his health and his body, surrender himself to the powers of flames and darkness and silence, to see her at the window again in her apartment, to hear her call him the "last, proud Quincy" like it was a title that meant something in a solitary world like his.

But he could not. He wept instead, just as she must have for many nights and years and decades, watching Kariya lose himself to power, and herself lose her heart to love.

_Love is being powerless._

_Power is being loveless._

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fin.

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A/N: luv u, **review** plz thnx yall rawk


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm going to try to update this daily, methinks. Hope you guys enjoy this!

A/N: Also, I'm guessing "crack" is just a term for a not really serious, mostly humorous, little ficlet? I hope so, 'cause that's how I'm using it, lol.

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**Drabble Collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_we are the sum of our experiences. we do not tremble. we do not fall. we conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: declaration of war

**Summary**: Renji's not taking this lying down, Ichigo. –Renji/Rukia/Ichigo CRACK

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_Ichigo Kurosaki—_

_Don't think I'm writing this to you because I'm afraid to tell you this in person, because I'm not! Rather, due to the fact that I'm an __actual__ Soul Reaper with my __Lieutenant__ responsibilities, I can't come to the Human World all the time to chat with the likes of you. But what I have to say is important, and I need you to see it with your own eyes._

_From this moment onward, I consider you my enemy. You and I may not meet on friendly grounds, and if we do meet, we will fight. And I will come at you with everything I've got._

_You see, you have something with you in the Human World that belongs to me, something very important to me, and I __will__ see her returned. I have merely loaned her to you for now, and you may not touch, look, or __think__ about her in a way that I would not like. If you so much as consider breaking the laws I'm laying down right now, Zabimaru and I will make you wish you had never been born._

_Furthermore, your responsibility is to see that she stays alive. Do not let her fight Hollows alone. Do not let her into any situation that may result in her injuring herself. You know I have watched her suffer too many damned times, and I will take it out on you if I see it ever again._

_I can see your blank face already, idiot. I am not overreacting. I am taking only the necessary steps to make sure she comes back to me, where she belongs._

_She does not belong with you, __Substitute__ Soul Reaper._

_I will see her back in Soul Society again, permanently. _

_Until then, this is a formal declaration of war. Consider yourself warned._

—_Renji Abarai, Lieutenant 6__th__ Squad of Soul Society_

When Rukia came into Ichigo's bedroom after her night shower, she found him with a white face and trembling hands, sitting at his desk with a letter in his hand. Dammit, and it had been such a vastly normal day, too.

"Ichigo? Something wrong?" she asked, reaching to check her Soul Pager.

Then Ichigo's eyes flashed and his fisted the paper in his hand with an enraged, even evil, grin. Now he reached for the girl and held her against his chest.

"Nothing at all, Rukia—just preparations for war."

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_fin._

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A/N: I'd like to see Ichigo and Renji really get into it sometimes. We all know this is what they're dying to do. (wink)

A/N: As always, please **review**, lovelies.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: the third part of my drabble collection. (side note: i think i read somewhere that drabbles are supposed to be 100 words? sorry, but i'm too long-winded. i hope you enjoy them anyway :D)

A/N: title and italicized words are from mumford & sons, "sigh no more"

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**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: sigh no more

**Summary**: This is how we eat our fears. –Ichigo/Rukia, for episode 115 (Rukia's return for the battle with the Arrancars)

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_(Love, it will not betray you_

_Dismay or enslave you, it will set you free:_

_Be more like the man you were made to be)_

She was the only one who could really still him.

And she always came back, somehow, exactly when he needed her: standing in a square of light, arms crossed and legs wide and strong, with a smirk and a pair of eyes like a challenge. And despite the dominance in her figure, she had pierced straight to his heart, so quickly and so effectively that he had no choice but to let her in. Her eyes did not melt, they did not soften: they hardened, they turned dark and fierce. Exactly what he needed.

_Are you afraid, really?_ She seemed to ask, and then scoffed. _You're better than that._

_Become stronger, Ichigo!_ she demanded of him, never lifting a finger to physically help him.

She knew he would pick himself up. She did not betray any doubt, none at all. _We cannot afford doubt, we Soul Reapers._

And she showed him exactly what to do: _This is how we eat our fears._

She was at his shoulder when he fought Hollows several times his size, when the Hollows were up above and down below and on both sides and even on his insides, laughing and laughing and _laughing_ at his mere Soul Reaper weakness and insisting—

_I will conquer your body, Ichigo, I will swallow you up—_

But she was in the corner of his eye; Ichigo bit back on his doubts.

She shouted down her demons; she gobbled up her enemies with the force of her noisy mouth. Her voice rebounded in his skull, knocking around all the cobwebs and sweeping out the dust hiding under the rugs.

_Let them try to take you, Ichigo! They will not succeed—you will be the one to swallow up your other half._

"I know, Rukia!" he finally shouted back at her, confirming that _yes, he was listening—yes, he believed her—yes, they would get past this and yes, yes, yes—! He would get stronger because—_

"I know you know, idiot," she said, but an affectionate smile played around her lips as she watched him rise, yet again.

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_fin._

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A/N: i love how rukia always knows what's up. ("mom, when i grow up, i wanna be just like a death god!")

A/N: please **review**.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: thank you guys for the reviews so far! i'm having fun writing these as i watch the series.

A/N: italicized lyrics are from mumford & sons, "after the storm"

A/N: i ship gin/matsumoto fuckin' big time- somebody's gotta love that voluptuous fox.

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**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: Ophelia's garden

**Summary**: Flowers in your hair. –Matsumoto, Yoruichi, Orihime, Rukia

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1.

Matsumoto woke up several times, both growing up and in womanhood, with flowers tucked neatly in her hand. She'd roll over in bed, heaving her supple, comfortable body onto her side, clenching the little bouquet instead of clenching her teeth. He never left her a note, or any indication that he left them, but she knew.

They were always pale flowers, either delicate white lilacs or soft purple irises, sometimes even the lightest of pink roses.

And on mornings like these, it was somehow both easier and harder for her to climb out of bed. Because she was thinking about a retreating back and soft, teasing words, and a smile she never failed to trust, though others called it snake-like.

But she eventually tucked a blossom into her strawberry blonde hair, and faced the day with a smile.

_(There will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears)_

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2.

Her admirers sent her bouquets everyday. Her grand banquet halls and meeting rooms were choking on the scent of thousands of flowers of every shape and color, cluttering up everything everywhere, everyday. Yoruichi thought it felt like a funeral home, and she did not bring them into her bedchamber.

She only allowed one single flower entrance, a silly daisy carelessly tossed on her bedside table, but there for her to see every night before bed. And this daisy she kept only for a single silly reason: because Kisuke had given it to her, so it was precious.

And he was never to know, the silly old fool, that this single silly daisy would go with her into exile, on her travels, into hiding, back between three worlds, and several wars—it remained, constantly tucked into her blouse, dried and carefully preserved, commemorating a what-if that she cherished like a last-ditch prayer.

_(And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears)_

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3.

She'd always decorated her brother's picture with candles, gifts, and sunflowers.

Every week or so for a long, long time, her classmates saw pretty Orihime with a small bundle of sunflowers in one hand, and they assumed they were from some sort of admirer. Though Tatsuki asked once, pretty Orihime shook her head cheerfully and said, "They're for brother!"

And to tell the truth, people identified her with the brightness and optimism of the sunflower, as if the sun really had come down into their midst. She shook out her long orange hair and looked for all the world like a sun, sitting with ankles delicately crossed, in classes.

But the reason for her commitment to the sunflower, very few people knew: and it presented itself in the form of a rainy night, when tears and rainwater were clouding out her vision, when panic and darkness were threatening to close in on all sides—a boy stood before her with one large sunflower in his hand, begging her silently to take it.

"For your brother," and then he'd added, "so be please don't cry." And that was all Ichigo had said that night, and she always clung to that image of him with the sun in his hand, brightening her world even as it threatened to fall apart.

_(Get over your hill and see what you'll find there)_

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4.

Renji had presented her with a bouquet when they were ten years old, barefoot, and dirty. He held it out, with barely shaking hands and a brilliant flush on his cheeks, a bouquet of cherry blossoms. A spring time flower, for the Ice Princess Rukia Kuchiki. Somehow the irony was enough to make her smile, looking back every spring, when the trees swelled and burst pinks and reds.

And she'd seen so many springs, so many cherry blossoms floating away in the wind—from the trees at her Soul Society home to Byakuya's bankai slicing Ichigo's skin to shreds—that she felt that each and every one of them were different.

Her suspicions were confirmed when she spent her second spring in the Human World: standing on the high school rooftop, she saw the city's cherry blossoms float upwards into the air, great clouds of pink perfume rising and swirling and soaring freely, content with their place in the world.

"Oi, Rukia," Ichigo called.

And when she turned, she noticed he had a tiny clip off of a cherry blossom tree.

"Take it," he said a little gruffly, plucking one of the blooms and shoving it into her hand, "all you do is stare at them anyway. Depressing."

But she didn't mind his insult at all, especially when she secured the flower in her hair expertly, and his face glowed pink and content.

_(With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair)_

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_fin._

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A/N: please **review**. and look at some flowers today :)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: i actually love him to bits and pieces, and i think he's precious. not to mention his hair. i'm still deciding on who i really want to ship him with, but he does indeed need a ship. until then, i'll torture him XD

A/N: thanks for the support, again, folks. i remain your indebted writer.

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**Drabble collection:** when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: why so serious?

**Summary**: Soul Reaper 10th Squad Captain Toshiro Hitsugaya was not cute. –Hitsugaya and all the ladiessss CRACK

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"It's Captain Hitsugaya, dammit," he insisted under his breath, glaring with big, serious eyes.

The high school girls in Ichigo's class squealed their pleasure at the boy with the shock of pale hair, deep tan, and delicate, almost feminine facial features. He kept his eyes half-lidded too, so that his long lashes curled and added darkness to his otherwise light and exotic irises. He was just so different, so precious, so—!

"You are just too cute—!"

He clenched his fists, but Matsumoto, sitting with all her curves at his side, only laughed her bright, bell-sounding laugh. "Oh, don't get angry, Captain, sir," she said. "They mean well."

He turned to her, the look on his face dangerous. "I am _not_ cute."

"Of course not," she answered coyly. "Guys with silver hair and wild disposition despite their (_cough_) age are not cute."

"Matsumoto—"

"Ah, Toshiro-kun, good morning!" came the overly sweet, high pitch of Orihime's greeting.

"It's Captain," he insisted again, but the other girls in the class were approaching Orihime, whispering—

"You know that adorable little boy?"

"Is he an elementary schooler?"

"Are you secretly dating a much younger man?"

"Oh, I hope not, I wanna chance with him!"

A vein popped out in his forehead; he raised a fist and started to shake it wildly about. "Damn you stupid hum—"

—But Matsumoto grabbed her Captain by the hand and proceeded to plop a solid kiss right on his mouth, in front of the rest of the class.

The room was silent.

They were the picture of taboo sexuality, between her luscious bod and his slim, boyish looks. The girls' fantasies increased tenfold, the fox of a Soul Reaper could see. They were staring with massive eyes and skin flushed from their toes to their foreheads.

Chizuru fainted from a nosebleed. Even Orihime was surprised. Keigo wept in a corner. Rukia's mouth dropped open. Ichigo just looked pale.

"Now, now, don't cause a ruckus, Toshiro-kun," she said, her voice darting upward in her school-girl acting voice.

He wanted to murder her with his own two hands, but she proceeded to march him out into the hall, saying loud enough for everyone to hear, "Now, we'll go do something romantic later, okay? So just go to your own school now, Toshiro-kun!" She was waving him away down the hall.

"_I'm going to get you for this, Matsumoto,"_ he growled under his breath, glaring at her over his shoulder as he strode away.

"Oh, that sounds so seductive, Toshiro-kun," she continued to goad, prolonging the act further. "I look forward to it, cutie-pie!"

And the entire class watched the mysterious, attractive young boy stalk away with a flame-colored face and stiff movements, declaring that it was the _cutest_ display of love they had ever seen.

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fin.

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A/N: please **review**. would you like more angst, humor, or romance? help me help me


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: seriously though, i bet their sex lives are ridiculous. and i love urahara so very much.

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**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title:** I'll be seeing you in the old familiar places

**Summary:** "Remember when it was us?" –Urahara/Yoruichi

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She had a body like a heart attack, and eyes like molten lava. She seared him so fiercely, all the way through his soul, so that he actually preferred it when Yoruichi had the form of a cat. ("Don't tell anyone I said that," he smiled at Ururu, winking.)

He tipped a sideways smile though, whenever she waltzed through his door in her long tanned legs and dark ponytail, with the posture and composure of a Princess. She felt as familiar to him as his zanbakuto, as natural as his skin and his bones kissing to keep him together.

They sat together at his table, just tipsy enough to be able to take think about themselves, for a little while.

"Ichigo and his friends are doing very well," Urahara started, leaning back a little, then a lot more, back onto his elbows. He looked at her from under his shady hat. "Remember when it was us?"

She slouched forward, resting her upper body on the table. She sighed, just a little wistfully. "You make me sound so old when you say it like that."

"Aren't we old?" he chuckled a little.

"Well, we are jaded," she conceded, her eyes drifting back to his face.

He closed his eyes, trying to block out the power of even her lazy, half-drunken stare. "I remember that one blistering hot day in Soul Society," he murmured.

She knew the one he meant. Because she remembered it, too, the way they had rolled around for hours together on a distant forest floor, seeing only fresh skin and sunlight, and feeling only youth's breathless fire. They'd made promises to each other then about the greed for love and for the power to keep that love. He could still remember the exact texture of her skin and hair, and the wild look in her eyes when she finally shuddered in his hold. He could remember the way she'd said his name, with such desperation, _Kisuke, I—I—_

"You thought you could protect me," she said now.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, then laughed, deep in the pit of his chest. "Yes, how silly of me," he replied.

"There was nothing wrong with that," Yoruichi told him, and he was little surprised—she must be drunker than he'd thought. But then he leaned all the way back onto the floor, and she closed her eyes again.

"I would still like to protect you," Urahara confessed, his voice very soft and serious.

But she did not answer, as he knew she would not; she was already drunk-asleep, on his table, like she'd done many times before. Urahara did not mind, though; she still came around his shop for a reason, he supposed.

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_fin._

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A/N: i like sexuality without the actual sex. does that make sense?

A/N: please **review**. you have no idea how much it helps & encourages me.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: i love Ichigo's family. and when Isshin showed up as a Soul Reaper all of a sudden, i squeeeeed like a stupid girl

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**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: stubborn love

**Summary**: "If you think for one second that I'm going to let them take you, you've got another thing coming." –Ichigo/Karin/Yuzu

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Ichigo made promises to a lot of people: to Rukia, to Sado, to Ishida, to Orihime—the list goes on. But the first promise he made was to his sisters, Karin and Yuzu.

At the tender age of ten, he was sitting at their bedsides, watching the kindergartners sleep. He did not know his father was at the doorway, watching in a brief moment of discretion, did not know that he had witnesses to this solemn oath.

Karin was having a nightmare. She furrowed her brow, sweated, whimpered in her bed, rolled over a couple of times trying to get back to a place of rest. Ichigo sat his small bum on the edge of her bed, placed a calming hand on her shoulder. He did not betray the idea that he himself was afraid, though undoubtedly he was.

"Karin," he called, waking her instantly.

"Big brother," she murmured, her eyes still cloudy and frightened.

"I'm here," he said, and he gathered her into his arms. She did not hug him back, did not cry, did not explain or ask questions.

Instead, the fierce little girl pushed her brother back and insisted, "I'm fine! You don't have to baby me."

"You're just a kid!" he told her, a little embarrassed at having his tenderness refused.

"So are you, stupid!"

But that's when Yuzu woke up, crying openly from a nightmare as well. "Ichigo!" she lurched out of her bed and collapsed on her sister and brother on the other bed, wailing like the frightened little girl she was. "Nightmares," she said, trembling, though Ichigo was holding her very firmly in his arms.

Isshin almost came into the room too, but that's when his young son pulled Yuzu away from his small chest and looked her very seriously in the eyes. "Yuzu, I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"B-but," she started to argue, tears filling up her baby-girl eyes.

"Shh," he told her, pulling her back in a tight hug, and then he looked at Karin too. "No one's going to take you from me. No one's going to take us away from each other."

Karin's face was stone; she had already learned not reveal her weaknesses. She felt ghosts coasting her skin, breathing down her neck. But Yuzu did not. Yuzu's demons were inside her mind.

"Not even monsters?" the softer child asked.

"No, Yuzu," he answered. "I swear to you this: I will protect you guys, no matter what."

"Really?" And now Yuzu looked at him, smiling; her tears were drying up.

To drive the point home, Ichigo told her: "Of course. I'm the big brother. And if you think for one second that I'm going to let them take you, you've got another thing coming."

But then Karin's pride spiked, and her spiteful teasing side crept out. "How? You're still a dumb elementary school student," she grinned at him, to which Yuzu replied, "Don't say that! Big brother is plenty strong!"

All confidence in the room had returned between Ichigo's assurances, Karin's teasing, and Yuzu's defense of her young brother's abilities. Isshin smiled softly to himself, and closed the door. The monsters were gone, at least for tonight.

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_fin._

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A/N: **review** if you like puppies or kittens or baby pandas, kthanx


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: this is for Ichigo's training with the Visoreds against the Arrancars, when he disappeared for about a month

A/N: i just off of work, and i'm uploading this before i lock myself up in my room to watch Bleach XD

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**Drabble collection: **when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: a tabernacle

**Summary**: This was hallowed ground, a place where she could not follow. –Ichigo/Rukia

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She bit her nails into stubs when he took off without telling her. She was not demanding; it's not that she would have protested, but something in her needed that good-bye before he left for whatever.

_No—_her mind rejected it immediately. _Not a good-bye. Just tell me you're coming back._

And Rukia sat in his bedroom window frame in her gigai, feeling all too useless and all too human. Even if she left the gigai behind, she knew he had gone purposefully without her.

She did have dreams, when she was in the gigai. And when he left for more than a night, she heard laughter and saw yellow eyes closing in on her from all sides. Her skin pricked, and just when she raised her zanbakuto to attack what her body registered as an enemy, she saw that it was his face grinning maniacally at her.

This not-Ichigo cocked his head at a horrifying angle and continued to grin. _What, can't do it?_

It was always raining in these dreams, too, she noted.

And she knew, when she dreamed those dreams, of echoing madness and of darkness and light crunching on each other, that he had retreated into himself. She did not know how he got there, she did not know what it looked like, or what he did there. But she knew he was beyond her reach.

For that was hallowed ground, a place where she could not follow. It was his very soul she would be begging entrance to, and that was an invasion no one should ever allow another.

She wrapped her arms around her body and hugged herself, trying to feel the physical substance of her body. _No_—a gigai.

_We all need some sacred space._

So she wore her nails down for many days and tossed in her sleep at night. She often woke up with bloody fingers, tangled up in his bedspread. She made sure to redo the neatness of his room, so that he did not know when—not if—he returned that she had holed herself up inside here.

For this, this small square box where he slept at night, was the closest she could get to him, then. And she treated it with all the deference she would have treated his soul, taking off her shoes and tiptoeing around with the silence and austerity of a monk.

And when he did return, with no explanation, and a simple little, "Oi, Rukia," she did not betray herself.

She did not show worry lines, she did not mention his disappearance. For this silence, in a way, was her hallowed ground, too.

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fin.

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A/N: please **review**


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: i find their relationship so interesting. mayuri's such a freak though, lol. gotta love it.

A/N: on another note, I'M ON SEASON EIGHT BITCHES, IT'S AMAZING. i'll have some drabbles for some of the major points in seasons 6-8 soon, y'all

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**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: the scientific process

**Summary**: He peeled her apart and put her back together. –Mayuri/Nemu

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Her muscle twitched, and her entire leg jerked under the sensation. He had ordered her to keep her eyes open, but she was squinting under the harsh light. Her bum bone bit harshly into the stark cold table under her, and her back was beginning to hurt.

So she lowered her eyelids and just listened to him breathe.

When he was examining her like this, doing routine checkups to make sure his creation was operating properly, his breathing changed a lot. Most of the time, Mayuri-sama's breathing was fairly regular; after experimenting so much on his own body, he had managed to put himself in the best physical shape possible. His blood pressure was normal, his heartbeat normal, his breathing normal.

Except moments like these: when he was peeling her apart, holding her slim but powerful arms out to the side so he could probe the soft flesh for internal abnormalities, when he held her delicate feet in the palms of his hands as gently as if he were holding a baby so he could check the machinery of her foot, including the bend and stretch of her toes and heel.

And now her master was opening her kimono, reaching for her ribcage, counting the ribs and pressing just a little harshly on her internal organs so he could make sure they were all still there, that her body was maintaining the right temperature and density to continue to live.

His breathing hitched, calmed, sighed. It gave him away every time.

She was no fool. He was not an affectionate man. His brutality rivaled Zaraki Kenpachi's bloodlust. Mayuri-sama was a furious knowledge-seeker, an inventor, a doctor, an experimenter. He did not treat her with respect or anything like it.

But he gave himself away every time he did his routine checkups.

He did love every inch of this skin and body, every hair that he had chosen and implanted into her skull, the shape of her body and the feel of her bones in his grasp. He loved to see the physical evidence that she was there, on the table, exactly where he wanted her. She could hear it in the way he breathed, flowing directly from his thoughts, when normally she would never presume to know his thoughts.

_You are my own, my precious creation._

The scientist in him was also the artist.

And she, his masterpiece, chosen and fine-tuned to match each and every one of his desires.

It was enough to remind her that despite everything, despite his harshness and his madness and his hunger, her lord and master Mayuri-sama would do these checkups, he would breathe irregularly in time to his concerns, and he would piece her back together.

She came apart and became whole again in his hands.

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_fin._

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A/N: i think this could be a supes sexy albeit weird couple. agree? & please **review**


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: as pointless and irritating as the bount arc was, i do love the mod-souls. i'm on season 10 and i haven't seen them in a while, so i missed them. someone please tell me they come back eventually?

A/N: pardon me, i don't know anything about poker, so there may be some inaccuracies. i tried not to talk about the actual game, lol.

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: royal flush

**Summary**: The mod-souls play poker, smoke cigars, and gossip. –Lirin/Kurodo/Noba/Kon

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The room was dark and smoky; they'd already been smoking and drinking scotch for half an hour when someone suggested a round or two of poker. The rest of the company grinned maliciously, but it was the little birdy stuffed animal who said: "I'm going to clean all of you of your wallets."

"As if, you idiot," Kon replied, already proceeding to shuffle a deck expertly. In one swift movement, everyone had cards in their hands.

Kurodo took a long drag off his cigar with an elongated ear and said: "I wish Orihime-chan was here."

"Add to that big Sis and Matsumoto," Kon answered, with a big, dirty grin. It was so out of place on a stuffed lion about the size of a hand.

"Hell no," Lirin said, "because then we'd have all of those idiots in the middle of our game. And especially not Kuchiki and Ichigo. I'm not about to watch them watch each other for three hours." A vein was sticking out of her stuffed head.

"It's kind of sweet," Noba murmured, barely audible.

Kurodo gasped at his comrade's comment, but proceeded to diss it, saying, "No! Without a doubt, the best couple is definitely Orihime-chan and Kurosaki-kun. And besides that, Kuchiki belongs with Renji in the Soul Society world anyway, kind of like Urahara-san and Yoruichi-san."

That's when Kon blanched. "Ugh, Renji's even worse than Ichigo. Did you see how they both beat me up the other day? I'll be happy to see that guy go back home!"

"Play the damn game!" Lirin roared at all of them, sick of the conversation. "You can ship everyone another time."

"You're the only one distracted, Lirin," Kon smirked, showing his hand. "A full house. I win." As his little fabric claws began to shuffle again, he said: "You're just mad, because you want that strawberry all to yourself."

The birdy blushed and dropped her mouth open (as well as her cards, so they had to shuffle again). "N-no! Who wants to have anything to do with that idiot?!"

"Everyone and their mother, it seems," Kon said, none too jealously. "Even Big Sis! I mean, what does she see in him?! I'm not okay with it."

"Oh calm down, we all know it's Orihime-chan and Kurosaki-kun at the end of the day." Kurodo sipped his scotch into his rabbit-head, looking smug despite his pinkness.

"I'm not convinced of that," Lirin said, very thoughtful all of a sudden. She was staring at her hand as she spoke, so they all assumed she was buying herself some time. "Ichigo always trains harder and fears less when Kuchiki is around."

"She did change his life." Kon nodded.

"It's more than that," Noba conceded now, showing a terrible hand.

"Well, how about this?" Kurodo triumphantly displayed a winning hand, and Kon growled.

"Cheater!"

"Nope, I just have wonderful abilities to see into other people's hearts, just as I can see Orihime and Kurosaki will end up together!"

"You're drunk!" they all burst at him, but he was happily chanting the bridal procession and mimicking wedding bells.

"And Kuchiki is _dead_, a soul, if you recall," Kurodo said very seriously. "Kurosaki-kun needs a living, breathing, beautiful, busty, happy—"

"You sound pretty in love with Orihime yourself!" Lirin threwe down her cards and smiled a triumphant smile. "I win this round, bitches."

"Of course I am, who isn't?"

"Ichigo," Lirin said flatly. "He'd go after that dead broad his entire life if he could." She stared at a new hand that Kon gave her, frowning deeply. "And besides, Ishida and Orihime look beautiful together."

"Ah, then what about Renji?" Kurodo countered.

She shrugged. "Who cares about that freeloader?"

"Kuchiki," Noba said, laying down a winning hand. They all stared at the little green (what is he, exactly?)—but then he added hastily: "Love is complicated, y'know—"

"Mm, is it now, Noba?"

Urahara was standing at the door, his fan in front of his face, but they could all see his wide smirk and his dangerous, plotting eyes.

"You all are just a wellspring of useful information."

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_fin._

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A/N: please **review**

A/N: A/N: i'd also like to ask my readers at this point, which of my chapters so far as been your favorite? it'll help me make decisions in the future. you can do so by **review** or **PM**. thank you 3


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: orihime hurts my heart. it seems to be her role in this show to be beautiful but broken. although i don't favor her with ichigo, any collection of bleach stuff isn't really complete without an ichihime moment, angsty or not. i will follow up on this with something that will make her happy, i promise.

A/N: this is for episodes 141-143, when she leaves for las noches with ulquiorra

A/N: title from "i will follow you into the dark" by death cab

A/N: this is totally unrelated, but i have an insane workday tomorrow & i'm dreading it XD so i drown my sorrows in angsty fanfiction and TV.

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: fear is the heart of love

**Summary**: this is the closest thing to pain or pleasure. –Orihime/Ichigo

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She supposed she knew, as soon as he said it, that she would end up here.

"You may only say good-bye to one person."

Was it a kindness, to give her that allowance? She couldn't decide. Maybe the enemy didn't know the difference. The thought made her sad in a different way.

She felt a little silly, talking to him while he slept, with his two little sisters at his bedside. She wasn't sure if she was really addressing him, or herself, or all of the entire world as she spoke. And she kept talking, talking, talking, summing up her entire dreams and wishes and precious things that she'd kept treasured inside her with all the grace of a little girl. These were the things she's only ever whispered at night anyway, to her brother's picture on the wall. And now she was whispering it while Ichigo slept below her, bandaged and weary and yet oh so very lovely.

That was a good way to put it, she decided, looking at his pained expression. Weary and lovely. Scowling but silly. A dichotomy of things that should not match, should not make up a person. She considered, briefly, that they would have matched, as a couple, one of the lovely, tall, redheaded ones other people admired on the street.

Orihime considered being angry. Being angry would be reasonable in this situation.

If only we didn't have a world full of villains! If only we weren't the ones tasked with defeating those villains!

If only Kuchiki-san had not showed up in their town that night, had not given him powers he did not need!

If only nature had taken its course!

Then perhaps she would not be here, about to say farewell to a boy she loves, and said boy would not be fighting for his life in his dreams.

But, she wondered, hovering over his face that has changed significantly over the last several weeks—are we more beautiful because we are tragic? Isn't that what being human means?

And isn't this fight—all these fights—about being human, about protecting humanity?

And to protect this human lying in his bed, she chose to leave. This was her act of love and sacrifice. He could be the one to slash swords all day and bleed his internal organs into the middle of the street. She would go to Hell. This would be her confession, her declaration, her moment.

And she gripped his hand until her knuckles were white before turning away.

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_fin._

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A/N: please **review**, my dear


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: i have to make orihime happy; she's just such a sweetheart. and ishida might be a little OOC, but i also feel like he could totally say what needs to be said (which is something nice to orihime). set it anywhere you want in the series, whatever makes you happy (but prolly after the bount arc).

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**Drabble series**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: You're the prettiest thing I've seen all day

**Summary**: "No really." –Ishida/Orihime

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It was a rare day when they were all in class. Orihime said her good-byes to Tatsuki, who was off to kendo practice, and then she hummed her way back to her desk, where she noticed Ishida was the only one still left in the classroom.

He had been so still, she hadn't even noticed him at first, though that was silly, because he was looking right at her. With eyes calm and his mouth sitting blandly on his face. She couldn't decide if he was very serious, or very flippant, or if something was bothering him, or what—? Ishida was the hardest of her group of friends to read and understand; she sensed that he felt intensely alone.

The last Quincy, she remembered.

"What is it, Ishida-kun?" she asked quickly, blinking. "Aren't you heading home? Do I have something on my face?" and she felt around, but now his lips were lifting in a smile.

"It's nothing, Orihime-san," he said softly. "It's just that after all this fighting, it's the first time I've gotten to just sit and be still and think."

Now he looked away, out the window, in thought. After a few moments of silence, his eyes flickered back to hers. She blinked back rapidly, unprepared for what came next.

"And I think you're the prettiest thing I've seen all day." A pause. "Or in a long while."

She didn't blush. She didn't start. She just stared in stark disbelief.

He chuckled one chuckle; it wasn't much of a laugh. It was more like the sound of a bruised lung trying to exhale.

"No, really. I'm serious." And Ishida stood and started to collect his things and head for the classroom door.

He turned and glanced at her. "Are you coming, Orihime?" He was silently asking her to walk home with him.

Now she quickly grabbed her books and, after tripping over her own feet a couple of times, joined him. But she hid a small, secret smile in the corner of her mouth so that he couldn't see. (If he did, he'd be embarrassed, and he'd never be tender with her again—)

_It isn't nothing, Ishida-kun. It's wonderful. Thank you._

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_fin._

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A/N: i'd like to poll you guys again: who is your favorite villain (use the term loosely) in the show? i'd like to play with some of them, too.

A/N: as always, i appreciate your **reviews**


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: because renji is sexy too, and we need to love him more. and i do really think he and rukia make sense. i love stories where kids who grew up together end up in love XD

A/N: i think my characters often have these weird sexual-existential moments like this because these happen to me in real life. 0.o well. uh. enjoy!

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: what if I'm not sorry?

**Summar**y: She gasped, choked, gazed. –Renji/Rukia

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She was sitting in front of Urahara's shop, legs crossed elegantly, staring without thinking into the night, when he came and sat next to her. They didn't speak. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, but had to stop for a moment.

His body was practically glowing from the steam of the shower, and he had yet to put on a shirt or retie his hair.

And he was sitting in his hakama, leaned over slightly, elbows to knees, staring at her from under this brilliant flame of hair that streamed and practically hurt her eyes for its brightness. It skated over his shoulders and hung in the air like the finest silk sleeves on royalty.

_And_—what, what was that look on his face? Renji was not frowning, precisely, because frowns were sad or mad, but he was pouting, pouting with a pair of lips she'd never thought about before. He suddenly seemed so mysterious, utterly _alien_ to the girl he'd grown up with, _and—_

The tattoos on his body circled a round bicep, danced up and down his shoulder blades, and caressed his chest and abs. She didn't know why she hadn't noticed it before, or why they seemed so bewitching right now. She knew other people found them strange, even dangerous-looking, but suddenly they seemed like a path she could walk, _up and down and around_ his body.

Rukia felt her smallness, sitting next to this big man under a moonlit sky. She clutched her clothes a little, continuing to stare like an idiot. Had she noticed before the way his splendid skin stretched taut over muscle and bone on his back, as it did now?—and what about—

"You're staring, idiot," he said with his usual audacity.

Then—"Renji, you're—beautiful," she murmured without thinking, then flushed.

_What—what just happened here?_

But Renji surprised her again by not turning red, and instead he turned and faced her full-on now, as if knowing that she was greedy for the sight of him.

"Sorry I'm not sorry," he grinned now, all teasing and inviting, and this—this was familiar again, this kind of Renji, so she punched him in his perfect arm and huffed and called him an arrogant fool.

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_fin._

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A/N: **review** if you like sexy people too, yeah i thought so !


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: For Rukia's battle with Espada no. 9, who wears Sir Kaien's face. That was a pretty satisfying moment, when she killed that bastard, if I do say so myself. I can't get enough of it when Rukia finally fights like the Soul Reaper she's supposed to be. LOVE

A/N: it's a tiddly-bit weird though. idk?

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: I am a death god

**Summary**: She trained herself every day for this moment. –Rukia

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_Oh, you've fallen again?_

She could practically see his cheeky smile. The wind was in his dark hair, and blue eyes with a tinge of green were smiling hugely at her, daring and encouraging her all in one strike. Rukia relaxed her gut where the Espada's trident tore inside.

_Have you fallen, Kuchiki?_ He seemed to be saying to her. She squinted, slowed her panting, trying to hear.

_What do we do when we fall, Kuchiki?_

It was like he was talking to a child, and in a way, he'd always had that affect on her. Sir Kaien's hand was both gentle and harsh; she'd never had much guidance before, certainly Renji could never offer it to her, and her brother did not deign to do so. So when he spoke to her in that tone with that face, it was like drinking up every last bit of life water in the river.

Her dry throat coughed a little.

_Kuchiki, tell me what we do when we fall._

She looked down on the enemy in front of her, spearing her up into the air, smiling with _his_ face and _his_ eyes and thinking that these would be enough to finish her. Sir Kaien's grin was not on this monster. Sir Kaien's words were not in his mouth. He did not deserve Sir Kaien's body; he did not deserve to be the one to kill her, _her_, of all people—the one who had loved Sir Kaien with all the innocence and adoration of a thousand children!

_Tell me, Kuchiki!_

Her eyes cleared, and she moved to strike—

(despite the coldness of her body, she could feel warm all of a sudden, as if everyone she'd ever loved was standing very close to her, arms around her, pushing her, telling her the answers—first came her brother, then Renji, Orihime, Ishida, Chad, and finally—finally—

_Rukia—!_ Ichigo's voice rang through, because he could feel it, too, he could feel her pain and how badly she wanted this—)

—"We rise again," she muttered now, gripped the staff in the enemy's hand. "We stand. We do not grow weary. We do not die alone."

Confidence flowed back into her bones; she could feel sunlight on her face and see the brilliant green of the forest where she'd spent so many hours training with him. She was there, again, just as she'd always been: the little Soul Reaper at her lieutenant's knee, trying to learn so badly what it is to act in the right and to belong. She could remember now.

_I have prepared myself for this moment. This is vindication. This is the truest atonement I know for all crimes._

She could have cried, shaking in the wake of this victory, but she was too strong. Instead, in her deep, clenching voice, she declared:

"We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer."

And Rukia said the words that broke the monster's spell; she could hear Sir Kaien's brilliant, massive laugh and hear him saying—

_Yes, yes, Kuchiki, we do! My, how you've grown. I'm glad I left my heart to you._

(laying down, her feverish cheek to the icy ground, she closed her eyes. _I'll always have your heart—_)

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_fin._

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A/N: please **review**


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: for WarriorofAnime, who asked for an IchiTats piece. I'm not sure if this is exactly what you were looking for, but I definitely think they have an interesting relationship. I'll follow with more on them, methinks.

A/N: I'm on season 13 y'all: I'm loving this Zanbakuto/Soul Reaper tension. I take back what I said: not all filler arcs are useless.

A/N: title from Bertha Mason, the lunatic in Mr. Rochester's attic in Jane Eyre

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**Drabble collection:** when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: Miss Bertha Mason's Resolve

**Summary**: Don't you dare act like I'm crazy. –Ichigo/Tatsuki

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Before Ichigo learns to be strong, there is Tatsuki.

The girl presents herself as shins: she plants her feet firmly in the ground, knees apart, hips centered, arms crossed. All dangerous, sharp shins and feet prepared to kick away Ichigo's bullies and demons.

"If you want something to punch, try me on for size," she told middle-schoolers when they were mere elementary-schoolers, still sitting in sandboxes. And boy, did she take those punches, but she also generously delivered them too.

This is a girl you can grin at, a girl who grew up not to be busty and sweet-tempered, but long and lean and so very boyish that Ichigo cannot help but relax in her presence. She does not ask for much, Tatsuki. It is in her nature to give.

Except—when Inoue disappears, and it's like Tatsuki's Tatsuki is gone. The pillar she depended on in a way that none of their friends noticed, it had been so silent and so understood. Inoue was Tatsuki's _girl_friend. They were girls together. Tatsuki had always had to be Ichigo's big brother, but with Inoue she was just another girl, laughing without having to be strong.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Tatsuki." He's standing by the window, looking so very normal, when her very spirit is _reeling_ from the scent of danger.

"Where is Inoue?" she barked at Ichigo, hitting him across the face.

Because this is the thing that Tatsuki cannot stand in the least: the lies.

"Don't you dare hide from me—!"

This is betrayal of the acutest kind. Because she remembers when Ichigo was crying by the river; she remembers when bigger boys would kick him in the shins. And she had never noticed how badly Ichigo wanted to be strong too, and now was his chance, though it hurt, like watching him die.

This is the child in him dying, and Tatsuki can't stand by.

They have to hold her down, to keep her from chasing him down the hallways and beating him into a pulp. She cannot watch his retreating back, a back that had broadened out these last several months, has been scarred and beaten and stretched taut over new muscles. She's never noticed that before.

_Please_, she thinks. _I was there in the beginning. What's happened?_

Tatsuki cries, but not just for herself. She cries for Inoue, wherever she is, and for Ichigo, for this secret so great that he has to lie to her, of all people. The darkness she could only vaguely sense before now, she sees full-blown and intimidating; it is a cloud that sets her teeth on edge and gives her screaming nightmares for weeks. She understands, somewhere in the corner of her soul, that Ichigo has dragged Inoue, Chad, and Ishida all into something terrible. And even further down, she suspects Kuchiki-san as well, the girl who seems just too normal.

But when Tatsuki is finished crying, she raises her head, follows him. _You're not going to hide from me, Ichigo._

This is the way it has always been, and she's damn sure not going to let him fight the wolves at the door alone.

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_fin._

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A/N: please do **review**


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: teehee funsies

A/N: also, thank you guys for your reviews/follows/favorites- i grin like an idiot when in check my email

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: pet names

**Summary**: "Quit calling me 'kid,' midget." –Ichigo/Rukia

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"Quit calling me 'kid,' midget," Ichigo growled at the girl in his bedroom.

She only laughed and turned the page of her manga, sitting on his bed. "But you are a kid. You're what, like sixteen years old? That's the blink of an eye."

"I'm at least a foot taller than you," he defended himself.

"So what? That makes you a kid-mutant." She wasn't looking at him; rather, she was quietly reading her manga. Her dismissal of him make him furious; Ichigo was in no mood for her shit tonight.

"I am _not_ a kid, Rukia. I save your ass every time you get yourself into trouble."

"I could take care of myself if you'd just let me." And now she flitted her eyes to his and grinned, looking far too dangerous and attractive for his brain to keep up with. "I'm here to protect kids like you, actually."

"Could a kid learn bankai in three days?" he countered.

"Captain Hitsugaya learned it pretty quickly. That's why he's a _child prodigy_," she said, unimpressed. "And he's still at least a hundred years older than you."

"Could a kid—"

"Just the fact that you're contesting this makes you childish," she finally sighed and turned away to read her manga. "Go back to your homework, kiddy. You have school tomorrow."

The room was silent for a moment, and Rukia thought he'd finally stopped arguing with her. She smirked for a second in triumph, and then she saw a shadow looming over her on the bed. She turned over her shoulder—

"Ichigo, what the hell—"

But he collapsed on top of her without heeding her cries. She pushed and punched and bit at him, but Ichigo remained still, the entire length of his body on top of hers.

When she stopped fighting finally, he leaned up a little bit and looked down at her from under his bright orange hair. She stared up from her back on his bed, suddenly feeling very small indeed with this _kid_ hovering over her. The goose bumps raised on her arms, and she cursed gigais to hell and back.

And then his _eyes_.

The honeyed brown in his eyes were looking directly at her, in a way no adoring child or bratty kid ever would—he was looking at her like a man looks at a woman, or a hunter looks at his prey. She realized their relationship had never been particularly physical, but in that second, everything was very physical.

"Could a kid do this?" he asked darkly, his voice dropping several notes.

Her face filled up with color and she stuttered, "D-do what? Ichigo, what the hell—"

"You're blushing," he noted blandly.

"Get off of me," she growled now, pushing on his chest with her palms (when did his chest get so hard and _perfect_, damn it all—).

"Admit that I'm no kid."

"_Hell no_," she blurted.

His mouth twisted into a weird smile. He'd known she'd say that. "I'll tickle you."

Her big eyes widened further. "Don't you dare—"

But his hands were already racing up and down her ribcage, and she bucked wildly, laughing shrilly under his body. He laughed with her, proceeding to poke and prod parts of her he'd never touched before, tickling her neck and waist until she was gasping, shuddering against him, shoving with all her might against his big, strong body—

And she rolled over on top of him quite suddenly, and his back was the one on the bed, and she sitting casually on his stomach, one leg on either side of him. Her face was pinkish and she was panting, looking so very_ delicious_. The thought was terrible and alluring. His hands stilled. He realized they were on her hips.

They both froze.

Panic crossed Ichigo's features—what was this, what had happened so quickly? He didn't know anything about boy-girl relationships. His mouth was dry, and he thought he'd sound hoarse to speak. He felt like he was standing at the threshold of something more dangerous than any battle he had yet to face.

Rukia's smile curled upwards on one side in a half-cocked grin. She looked like a cat that had learned the rules of the game. She placed her hands on his on her hips, and pulled them away from her. She stepped off of him slowly, and his body almost lurched with her. (_No, please don't go_—he would have _begged_.)

But Rukia was already off the bed, and he was lying there, staring at the ceiling like a stunned idiot. Like a kid.

"I win this round, kiddy," she said, grabbing the manga again and waltzing out his door. "Try again when you've grown up."

Then Ichigo smirked to himself, though his face was still red.

_Challenge accepted, Rukia._

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_fin._

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A/N: lolololol **review if you like tickle fights with attractive people**


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: crack-ish, but let's be real, i would kill to be in their prom group. and then yumichika and i could argue about who's sexier all night. (i would win lololol)

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: taffeta roses and hairspray

**Summary**: "Ask me nicely." –Ichigo/Rukia PROM CRACK

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It was a pretty normal day, for all intents and purposes. Sure, they'd knocked heads with a couple of Hollows and had to cut class to go destroy them, sure, they destroyed half of the science building in the process and had to explain to their teachers why they'd been there when they were supposed to be in the infirmary—but that was all normal, compared to this mammoth task before Ichigo Kurosaki now. He glanced down at the dark head of hair next to him.

He opted for the direct approach. "Rukia, uh, prom is next week." Well, sort of direct.

She didn't glance up. "Oh? I'd forgotten about that."

He ground his teeth together; he hated it when she made him crane to look at her face. "Yeah, it is." He went silent for a while, then blurted. "So, what color are you gonna wear so I can match?"

She still didn't look up, the damn midget. "What color?"

Ichigo stopped walking so she had to turn and look at him. Her face was passive. "Yes, the color of your prom dress so my tux can match yours," he said firmly, scowling at her uncooperativeness. Really, girls should be leaping at the chance for a prom date—

"Ask me nicely."

He met her eyes, which were so frightfully big and challenging: Can you ask me like a proper date should? Her mouth was curved up on one side, oh so very playful that it hit a nerve.

When he hesitated, she whipped back around and started walking again. "If not, I'm sure there's plenty of lovely candidates for your date, Ichigo, Tatsuki perhaps—"

And then he was pulling on her tiny hand, dragging her forcefully back; when she turned back, he was on one knee, his eyes very determined, but his cheeks a brilliant hue of teenaged embarrassment. He had one of her hands in both of his.

"Rukia Kuchiki," he croaked like the fool he felt, "will you go to prom with me?"

She reached out and ruffled his hair, now that it was within her grasp. He relaxed instantly. "Of course, you dope," she smiled.

(Of course, several classmates of theirs passed by this lovely scene and—spotting the hapless Ichigo on one knee—proceeded to congratulate them on their engagement. But, that was normal too, sort of.)

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And it was really worth it, because everyone was at their sexiest.

Orihime glided in on Ishida's arm, looking like a brilliant sun in her floor-length golden dress; Ishida could not stop alternatively blushing and smiling.

Chad and Tatsuki arrived together, in a deep maroon. He wore a rose pinned to his lapel to match the roses skating along the perimeter of her dress. Ichigo had never seen her look so feminine and wonderful.

Matsumoto and Toshiro were the talk of the evening: the boy had his hands in the pockets of a white tux with mint trim to match his busty date's mermaid-shaped mint gown. She laughed and tossed back her brilliant hair, happy to be with everyone. This was her first prom, she said, even in all of her days.

Keigo and Chizuru were already fighting in their matching pink outfits; they were the comedic corner of the evening, though no one could deny they looked very handsome together.

Ichigo was most surprised to see Ikakku there with Keigo's older sister, but, unable to refuse his kind hostess's demand, he arrived toting a happy girl in yellow, his chrome dome gleaming even in the dim room.

And then there was Ichigo with the moonlight next to him; he kept a simple black tie and tux look while she soaked up all the dark light in the room in her silver-trimmed dress. He beamed at her, though he would deny it until his teeth fell out. The moment he'd finally asked her, she disappeared to Soul Society, laughing over her shoulder that she had to find the perfect dress, since he'd gone to so much trouble to ask. And she did not reappear till the day of prom, in a gown that rivaled the most perfect winter snow.

Their pictures were beautiful:

Ishida had a tentative hand around Orihime's slim waist;

Tatsuki grinned wildly at a light-blushing Chad;

Matsumoto had an argumentative Toshiro pressed way, way too close to her breasts;

Keigo and Chizuru both had mini-binoculars scanning the room behind the camera;

Ikakku was blushing all the way to his bald forehead when Keigo's sister took his hand;

and Rukia snuck a kiss onto the cheek of one bewildered Ichigo Kurosaki.

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_fin._

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A/N: ooh girl, hit that **review** button


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: for the Zanpakuto Rebellion. I really liked this moment, even though it was filler. Nice one, animators! BUT I STILL HATE FILLERS. I admit that I still skipped a lot from that arc. Sorry not sorry?

A/N: I'm also going to broaden the characters I use. I really wanna play with more of the Visoreds, in particular.

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**Drabble collection: **when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: on prodigality

**Summary**: The boy before the ice dragon. –Hitsugaya

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The thunder came home to roost in his hand.

_I am your master_, the boy said, standing before the tall, beautiful zanpakuto. His silver hair glinted in the moonlight, and still the man did not believe him.

_How can it be you?_ He asked, scoffing at his height and shoulder breadth. _You are a child._

But the boy charged, and sweated, and called his name. And somewhere at the quick of him, the zanpakuto stirred, rustled his dragon scales, felt the ridges on his back rise in recognition. He could vaguely remember the feeling of tiny feet scampering along his back, as if someone were climbing from tail to head; these were not stranger's hands, but the hands of a longtime friend or brother, someone just as unsettled and frightful as himself.

The boy called again. _You are mine, and I am yours. I know the ways of your soul._

The skies darkened in response. _But it can't be you!_ The zanpakuto dug into the reaches of his memory, searching for the booming laugh of a large man, or the feel of a strong fist curling around his hilt; he could make no such recollection.

Instead, he thought he could recall the high, unruffled laughter of a woman, the small cheerful smile of a quiet girl, the feeling of Grandmother's wrinkly hands. A small house appeared before his mind, even as he faced a boy who called himself his master. The boy's eyes flashed, and the zanpakuto could not deny that the deep scowl on his face looked mature beyond his years.

A well opened inside of him: _If only I could remember—_

_What is your desire?_ The boy asked suddenly, the wind whipping his hair. He still clenched a sword in a small hand, pointed it directly at him, without hesitation, without fear. _What do you want most of all?_

_I want to come home_, the man said, as the yawning chasm in his soul opened and the wind bit at it. _I want my master._

He saw his expression mirrored on the boy in front of him. _Your master wants you._

Lightning flashed, illuminated everything. The familiar chill of ice against him rose up on all sides—the boy was commanding his power, how? How could he do this? How could he remember the words to make him bend his knee?

_You begged me to know you a long time ago_, the boy said, his mouth not moving. The zanpakuto stared, trying to understand why he saw the boy's memories, why he could recall circling winds and a distant nightmare at the edge of his consciousness.

The dragon roared.

He hadn't anticipated this.

_Remember your home—remember me, your master._

He tilted his head back, flapped his great dragon wings; all of the world around them shook, just as it did those many nights ago, when a small boy in his Grandmother's shack was craning to hear his name.

_Will you be the one to tame me? My name is—_

_Hyorinmaru!_ The boy was calling for him. _It's me you're looking for, Toshiro Hitsugaya—!_

_Yes_, he sighed, and caught the small precious body in his strong arms. _I'm here._

_._

_._

_._

_fin._

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A/N: **please review**, folks. it really really really really really helps me out XD


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: you guys know you ship hiyori/shinji all day long. (i'm on season 15- that part when gin wounds hiyori and shinji's freaking out about her absolutely killed me XD) (also, shinji's teeth and hair. absolutely the bomb.)

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: monsters under your skin

**Summary**: Hiyori never cried, but now she was shaking in his arms. –Hiyori/Shinji

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It took centuries for Hiyori to cope. Though she did not show it to outsiders like Ichigo and the Soul Reapers, the mask weighed heavily on her, and she suffered.

Too many times Shinji found her underground, training alone, screaming for hours into days into weeks—trying to master this side of her that had suddenly raped her consciousness. She dug her nails into the skin of her face, ripping the mask on and off again until Shinji was ready to beg on his knees for her to stop.

"Hiyori, that's enough for one day," he'd tell her, approaching, trying to be casual.

"Not yet," the blonde girl would pant, doubled over on the ground. "_She's_ not groveling for mercy yet."

"Let it go for now," he told her, time and time again—but then he found her Butcher at his throat, and Hiyori was screaming.

"Leave now—I can't control her yet—I don't know what she'll do—!" the former Lieutenant cried. And he had to let her have her way.

Hiyori pounded her body into the rough terrain of the training ground. He watched her blood seep into the dirt, her nails claw at her own body. Hachi placed Kido spells on her to control the erratic movements, but to no avail. They all watched, horrified, as she repeatedly screamed at herself.

"_I will beat you into submission—_

"_I will grind your bones to dust—_

"_I will conquer you so thoroughly that you cannot remember who you are—!"_

And they, her best of friends, could not tell whether this was their Hiyori speaking, or the Hollow, making promises.

Shinji heard crying one night. He'd gone to bed as usual, letting her train until she passed beyond the gates of exhaustion, but then he heard the distinct sound of a child sniffling, trying to cover it up. He rose from his cot, went to find her.

Hiyori was on her back, her arm thrown hastily over her face. She was crying, beating the ground with her free fist, and her toenails her curled under, as if she were in great physical pain. Her voice was very hoarse.

"Hiyori?" he murmured.

"Shinji? Is that you?" Her voice was shaky; he'd never heard that before.

He moved closer, pried her arm away from her face. The Hollow mask was lying in pieces all around her, and her eyes were still that sick mix of yellow and black. She was panting. Blood seeped from her eyes. When she could focus her vision on him, she sat up, bent over as if to puke.

"Shinij, she's never going to leave," Hiyori whispered brokenly to him. "I-I can't make her leave—she's in my skin, she's in my soul, she's burning me up—"

It was uncharacteristic of him, but he pulled her into his arms and sighed, patted her weary back. Hiyori normally would have called him foul names and shoved his face into the dirt, but now she was curling toward him, tiny fists bunching in his shirt. Her forehead was on his collarbone. These moments were rare in their relationship, because neither of their temperaments could handle being comforted, but now, they both knew they needed some shred of companionship. And she murmured her words into his skin.

"Shinji—what if I can't stop her—"

Hiyori was crying now, crying desperately, crying out of a naked fear that he did not know how to squash. Because this, _this was his fear too_, that he could not stop the Hollow inside of himself, that despite Kisuke's assurances and promises, they would never be anything close to themselves again. Sure, they could all feel the power pumping through their bodies, this new dark power that whispered alluringly of world domination and revenge for all their past regrets—but, but—_Hiyori was crying_, and this never happened, and nothing could be worth her tears.

"Shinji—she says she's going to take over my body and kill all of you—" Hiyori went on. "I don't know what I'm going to do—"

Now the former captain allowed himself to grin bitterly. He decided not to share of his own concerns. "Idiot," he said. "Even you in Hollow-form could never touch me."

But she wasn't fooled. She could smell in the fear in him too. "You're the idiot."

A hand tentatively came up and stroked the back of her neck; he knew she liked this, even after centuries of denying it. She calmed a little, stopped sniffling. He pulled her face away from his neck and looked at her very seriously; she blinked at his face, and remembered why he'd been appointed Captain of the Fifth Squad.

"We have spent our lives fighting Hollows," Shinji whispered. "We're not going to lose ourselves to them. If anyone could make it through this, it's us, Hiyori."

"I hate it when you try to act all cool," she said now, and her tears were dry. "But I believe you."

"Of course," he smirked a little, "it's because I'm always right."

The girl looked somber again. "Shinji, I really hope you're right this time."

Now he reached up and grabbed her face in both of his hands, pressing into her skin firmly, hard enough that she forgot what the feel of the Hollow mask felt like, just for a moment. He scowled. _I know you best, and this will need your best._

"_I am right_. We will all be alright." He blinked, released her. "Now get some sleep. I'll train with you tomorrow."

And that is when Hiyori began to cope. The next day, she subjugated her inner Hollow after hours of rigorous, curse-filled training. Shinij was standing right beside her.

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_fin._

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A/N: please **review**


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: i fell in love with stark/lilinette the first time i saw them together in hueco mundo, when he was asleep on the couch and she climbed over him and forcibly shook him awake. does anyone else think they're a lot like nanao and kyoraku? (they'll be happening soon too here.)

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**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: let there be light

**Summary**: She was the child in his clothes. –Lilinette/Stark

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His earliest memory is of a sharp ache in his chest. And her bare body in the moonlight.

"Do you have a name?" she asked, with half-lidded eyes.

He noticed first the horned cap on her fair hair, and it struck him odd that someone so small and helpless-looking could also frighten him so. _You are the first_, he realized. _You are the first not to die from the sight of me, from my presence, from my nose breathing your air._ Her skin is fresh, even a little moist, as if these are her first moments alive. He blinked, and something in his aching chest tells him: _This, this is the answer to all your problems._

"Stark," he murmured, not taking his eyes off her, even as she stretched her tidy young body in the nude. She was already comfortable with herself in front of him.

"You were once me, you know," she said, when she saw his look. And it made sense: that must be why he instinctively knows that he needs her. _Or, you were me_, he thinks, but he allows her the claim to be the original.

"What's your name?" He thrust a tattered robe at her.

"Lilinette," she told him, wrapping the thing around her, curling into herself. She looked even smaller, even more helpless, but she was the most powerful thing he'd ever seen. He tested the way it felt on his tongue: _Lilinette_. Tidy-sounding, like her.

"So, Stark, what do we do?" she asked.

Her question comforted him. _We,_ he thought. Not, _get away from me_. Not, _well, I'll be going now._ The look on her face struck him again. _I guess you remember it too, then. How it feels to be alone._

"Anything," he sighed.

They looked at the moonlight slicing through Heuco Mundo sand. "And where do we go?"

"Anywhere." Stark cocked his head in her direction. "Let's just be together. Until the very end."

She smiled. Her eyes were jewel-like in the nighttime. _Wow_, he thought then, _is this how easy it is? To make a pact for forever?_

No—because to have this, he'd had to split his own soul in two, and now he was looking at her. He thought he could recall a story like this, a very old story about the beginning of the world, and how the woman was made of the man's flesh. He felt along his ribcage, counting the ribs, wondering if he was missing one and if maybe, just maybe, Lilinette was one of them. Stark felt that this moment was very sacred, more precious than anything else he could imagine.

_You are the first._

He tried her name on his tongue again: _Lilinette_. He looked at the vision of his heart sitting across from him, and he decided it was good.

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fin.

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A/N: please **review**. and i'll ask again, now that i've uploaded more chapters: which one is your favorite out of the 20 chapters i've written? please and thank you you're pretty lovely wonderful & i love your words


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: the long-awaited Orihime/Ulquiorra. This was a lot harder to write than you'd think, because his character is just so...not there. I just kept writing, trying to hash it out. That's probably why it's so damn long. But, I hope you enjoy it anyway! Thank you again for your favorites/follows/reviews.

A/N: I'M ON EPISODE 305, THEY'RE ABOUT TO DEFEAT AIZEN I THINK. ZOMG. I CAN'T EVEN. (Also, why did they have to make the evil bastard _sexy_? Damn it.)

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**Drabble collection:** when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: darkness, my old friend

**Summary**: We all have our demons. –Orihime/Ulquiorra

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We all have our demons.

Hers took the form of pale, pale skin over a lean powerful body and green eyes; hers took the form of the enemy who almost killed her champion; hers took the form of a beautiful creature stumbling forward on his knees, asking her, _What is a heart?_

Ulquiorra stood straight-backed and severe and blank, not at all like Kurosaki-kun, who slouched, put his hands in his pockets, scowled. But when she blinked or squinted or did a double-take, she thought she could see a pair of black wings sprouting from his back, as faint as the rainbow after the rain.

_Are you afraid?_ He'd asked, many times.

She thought of Kurosaki-kun, Ishida-kun, Sado-kun, and Kuchiki-san, racing to find her, to save her, to keep her. She looked at the green in Ulquiorra's eyes, the set of his jaw, the harsh lines down his cheeks. _Tears? _She thought. _Where have you been, before this?_

_No, I am not afraid, _she said firmly.

Though he shook his head and called her a fool, he did not try to scare her. He did not approach her in his final form, with the moonlight on his skin and the hole in his chest glaring at her, as he did with Kurosaki-kun.

_Why didn't you try to frighten me?—oh, but you couldn't frighten me away, never._

He ran his fingers over her face, very softly, almost without touching her. _Where is your heart?_ He asked quietly, puzzling and puzzling over the question. The pads of his fingers dipped into the inner corners of her eyes, ran along her long dark lashes. _Is it here?_

_They do say the eyes are the windows to your soul_, she offered, opening her eyes.

He frowned a little, but just a little. _Do they?_

His hands fell from her eyes; he did not cup her cheek, because that would have been too affectionate, but they traced her cheekbones, down her jaw and chin, then to the front column of her throat. She swallowed.

_I could snap your neck_, he said. _I could do it now, and Lord Aizen would not punish me_. He blinked. She did not answer. _Are you afraid now?_ There was no venom in his words.

She shook her head. _No._

Ulquiorra said, _You've never used my name._

Orihime blinked at the comment. _Really?_

He stared back without speaking for several minutes. _You say your friends' names in your sleep_—here she flushed and he did not know why—_you say 'Sado-kun' with admiration, you say 'Ishida-kun' with affection, you say 'Kurosaki-kun' with_—and he stopped here. _I don't know what to call it. (Desperation, _he knew the sound of it, but he couldn't say it.)

Her face fell; he followed it. _I didn't know that._

_And you say 'Kuchiki-san' with sadness_. Ulquiorra was looking directly at her; he saw the panic that flitted across her face. _Why? Did Kuchiki-san die?_

She blinked several times, _No! Of course not. She's going to come and save me, with the others._

He moved away from her, paced around the dim room with his hands behind his back. She sat on the couch, watching him move with the grace of a black panther. She tried not to think about the conclusions any one else would have drawn from her nightly cries, but then he said:

_I wonder what my name would sound like, if you said it in your sleep_. Then he turned and promptly strode out the door.

He was the one with the responsibility for her health, so he took her outside of her cell, to wander under Las Noches' fake blue skies. She stood on the sand, marveling at the engineering of the ceiling, and he stood aloof, arms crossed, very serious. After a while, she said: _Does Lord Aizen also miss the blue skies then?_

Ulquiorra furrowed his brows and stared hard at her. _Of course not_. But he did not answer her implication either, because he did not know.

_They'll be glad to see something familiar when they get here_, Orihime said, a small smile on her face.

_They'll die when they get here_, he said firmly.

She did not protest, and he watched the fake winds rustle her russet hair for a long time. He'd never seen precisely that color before, and he couldn't take his eyes away.

_How do you share a heart? _

At his question, she turned to look at him. He looked very lost to her, but she refused to pity him. Ulquiorra's dignity was somehow too heavy, too weighty, for her to flippantly pity his despair. Orihime committed her eyes to his when she said, very solemnly, _Love._

But he scoffed. _Love is not real. You humans create it because you are weak._

She turned away, and said so quietly she thought he could not hear: _This sky is not real either, but Lord Aizen wanted it._

She did not see the surprise that upset his features.

_You've never used my name either_, she said at one point. She was looking out the windows of her cell, at the moon, thinking how much more romantic the Human World's moon was. She felt him still behind her, and she turned over her shoulder to look at him. He thought vaguely how he didn't like that she was always looking at him over her shoulder; somehow, it was dominant. He stood and walked around the room, leaned casually against a wall to regain some composure.

_You've always called me 'woman.'_ She elaborated.

_You're right_, he said blandly. He wasn't sure what to say to her suggestion. Did she want to hear it, like he wanted to hear her say his name? He couldn't tell. So he stood silent, watchful.

_I think if you name things, they become important to you_, she went on, unsure if he was listening. She didn't know if she cared. _Giving something a name gives them an identity, or a place in your world_. She was smiling softly to herself. _Maybe that's why you haven't said it._

After a full minute, he said: _Well, you aren't important to me. You're important to Lord Aizen, which is why I'm here._

Orihime nodded, and she moved toward the couch, to sit across the room from him. That seemed much more reasonable, less tense. It was important to look at someone when you spoke to them. But then he began to move toward the door—she thought she could see those wisps of black wings again, folded in neatly against his back, like a long-held secret, waiting to burst. He always left abruptly, like this, without so much as a, I'll be going now, or I'll be back in ten minutes.

_Good-bye, Ulquiorra_, she murmured, her eyes on his face.

He stopped moving, looked at her, and the green in his eyes seemed brighter somehow, more brilliant, glassy? She fancied for a moment that there was a tear rolling around in his eye, and she waited to see if it would come down his cheek, tracing the black lines marring his face. It did not. He just stared for what felt like hours.

Then she blinked and saw—yes, the wings were moving, stretching high and taut, as if about to flap, to carry him away. She never rid her memory of the sight of a demon, faltering for the heart in his hand.

_I'll lend you my heart, since you can't seem to find yours._

_._

_._

_._

_fin._

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A/N: I don't know if that was dissatisfying or not. Hm. Tell me? **Review**


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: i don't even know what this is, other than stupid. i just had to break up some of the tension from the last few uploads. i always seem to have an ichiruki crack on hand.

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**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: better luck next time

**Summary**: "People in Hell want ice water."/ That time Ichigo hit on Rukia, drunk. –Ichigo/Rukia CRACK FLUFF THING

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Rukia sighed in irritation; she really was going to kick Renji's ass for this.

"Rukia…" came the muffled voice of one _very_ drunk strawberry, currently slumped over her.

"Shut up," she growled, heaving another sigh before continuing to drag his dead weight.

Yeah, Renji was really going to get it in the morning, and she'd make sure to pounce in on him very early in the morning, before he had to time to sober up. I mean, really, since when was it a good idea to take some underage human boy out drinking in Seireitei's Rukon district? This was for the toughest of the tough, for hardened drinkers, a black hole that she herself had only ventured into once, before she was accepted into the Kuchiki household. After that, only the finest of aristocratic wine was permitted to slip past her lips.

"I sure got Renji, didn't I?" Ichigo sniggered suddenly.

"You're gonna get it too, idiot," the girl answered angrily, grinding her teeth together. "I really can't believe you sometimes."

Of course, Ichigo had to have his stupid pissing contest with Renji, which means they downed drink after drink of hard liquor to try to outdo each other—then this culminated in a _literal_ pissing contest, outside. She, the hapless chaperone, had lost count after the tenth drink. It must have been Ichigo's training these last several months that kept him from alcohol poisoning on his mere human body. Well, she was going to beat his mere human body so badly that he remembered all the idiot acts he performed this evening.

"I'm gonna get it? No, you're gonna get it, midget," the strawberry drawled.

She frowned at him but did not answer.

"Oh yeah, you're gonna geeeetttt ittttt," he kept repeating. "And I'm gonna give it to you good."

She had finally reached Ichigo's house, back in the World of the Living, and then his bedroom, when he had the audacity to say this.

"_What?"_

"I'm gonna give _it_ to you, Rukia," he grinned, looking wildly at her.

She humphed and cast his body on the bed, where he continued to stare up at her excitedly. "Oh, yes, I can see you get it now." He sat up, tried to take off his tee shirt, but he got confused when it didn't immediately slip over his head. Caught, he slumped back against the bed, tangled up like a child in his shirt. He poked one eye out of an armhole. "Help, please." And actually _giggled_.

"Leave your damn shirt on, we're not doing that," she snapped.

"No, I wanna—!" Ichigo whined, struggling with his shirt until it finally ripped open. He threw the pieces on either side of himself, and then sat up again, reaching for her. "Okay, now your turn," he said slowly, but cheerily.

Rukia crossed her arms over her chest. "Ichigo, you're drunk."

"I am _not_," he closed his eyes and shook his head vigorously. "I'm completely myself, and I want you."

"People in Hell want ice water."

"Exactly." He nodded, smiling.

Rukia reached over and punched him square in the jaw. "No," she said, a vein popping in her forehead.

But Ichigo was crafty even in his stupor, and he took the opportunity to wrap both arms around her small waist and roll them over in his bed. "Ichigo—damn it," she cursed, and tried to shove him back, but he merely smiled and rubbed his nose into her collarbone, sighing like a contented puppy.

"_But Rukiaaa_," he whined again, like a kid, "you're so beautiful and you smell so good—I just wanna make you happy and protect you and hold you and kiss you and have you bear my children." To punctuate his absurd statement, he ground his face into her chest, until she was unable to remember how to push him off.

"Damn it, Ichigo, _no_," she repeated, flushing brilliantly now, but not struggling so much. "You're such an idiot."

"Yeah maybe," he said sheepishly now, rolling his eyes to meet hers. She blinked back at him widely, and he said, "But I like your eyes, you know. And," he frowned a little now, trying to remember through the thick fog of ingested alcohol, "I like your little hair thingy that's always in your face." He reached up, where said wisp was resting between her eyes, and very gently tucked it behind her ear. Now he grinned again, satisfied with his handiwork. "Oh, you do have a forehead under that. I wasn't sure."

She punched him in the gut now, and he coughed, but did not let go. He smiled again. "I'm gonna give it to you, Rukia," he teased.

"No you're not," she turned her face to the side, still disapproving.

"Aw," he said, sounding truly disappointed. But then he yawned, and turned his right ear back to her chest, making himself comfortable.

"Ichigo, what are you doing—" she started.

"Well, if you're not gonna let me give it to you, I'm just going to sleep."

"Well, let me get up."

"Don't wanna."

"Ichig—"

Then he was snoring. Loudly.

Rukia sighed and muttered several curse words to herself, some things about an idiot strawberry and an idiot Soul Reaper with tattoos and about the idiocy of alcohol and the idiocy of piss and the idiocy of this comfortable bed and how nice it felt to have him on her on this bed and how idiotic it was of her to think that.

"Idiots, all of you," she finally said to herself, before closing her eyes to sleep.

A few minutes later, Ichigo stopped snoring and cracked open one eye to see if she was really asleep. Satisfied that she was, he curled her closer to himself and pulled the blanket over them.

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_fin._

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A/N: fluffier than kittens in snow mittens. **review?**


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: i think i lied to you guys when i said this was a drabble collection. let's be real, this is a dumping ground for my love of bleach, regardless of word count. also, i should have disclaimed earlier. i do not own bleach, because tite kubo must hate me and he knows i would turn it into a fluffy/angsty mess (more angsty than it already is).

A/N: sado doesn't get enough attention. i really like him. also, i wrote him in my prom crack with tatsuki just because, but now i'm kinda really liking it. is that weird? a new ship is born.

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: wade in the water

**Summary**: These are the important things, the things that save your soul. -Sado

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The rest of them talked out their souls; Sado breathed, closed his eyes, fisted his hands. He felt the rough pads of his fingertips in his palms, the sweat rolling down his strong back, the heaviness of his hair over his face. He prayed. _These are the important things—_

/

The leathery skin on his grandfather's big hands: they gripped him, even as a tall boy, around the ribcage, raising him high above his head, onto broad shoulders. There was a booming laugh, and a declaration: _My boy, you will grow up to be a strong man someday. _

His grandfather chucked him under the chin, even when Sado refused to speak. _You can't be strong until you let go of your anger, my boy. _The hard knot in his chest began to rot away.

He drew the youngster between his knees for a hug, something he didn't receive often. _I scold you because I love you, my boy_.

His handsome grandfather was in the sunlight, with a cap, a beard, and a grin on his teeth. He placed a chain around his neck. _You are my pride, my boy._

/

Ichigo's thumbs-up, even though he had a black eye and his left cheek was swelling. There were several older boys lying around, unconscious on the ground.

_How about you use your fists for me, and I'll use mine for you?_

He wanted to tell this orange-headed boy with the tall, lean body and a scowl: _I would follow you into battle. I'd follow you anywhere, if you asked it of me. _Somehow, he'd knew that following Ichigo would be the most important thing in his life.

But Ichigo would not have asked that of Sado, would not have placed him in any real danger for any reason. _Let me handle this_, he'd tell his friend, though he knew that he was frightened too. Ichigo frowned at his fears, dug deep within the well of his soul and pulled out Zangetsu.

So Sado went looking for El Directo. _I'm not letting you do this alone. My fists for you, yours for me._

/

Afternoon lunches at school, with all of them: Sado, Ichigo, Rukia, Ishida, Inoue, Keigo, Tatsuki. They all sat around and poked their chopsticks in each others' lunches, the sun on their shoulders, the sound of laughter light in the air. They weren't training for anything, looking for Hollows, and none of them were injured.

Keigo called Rukia _Rukia-chan_, and Inoue called Ichigo _Kurosaki-kun_, and Ishida met Sado's eyes with a half-smile, sighing and murmuring, _They're such idiots_.

It didn't matter that one of them wasn't human, Ishida was a Quincy, Ichigo had the fate of the world on his shoulders, Inoue could turn back time, Sado's arm resembled a Hollow, or that Keigo, and Tatsuki weren't to know anything. They were all idiots, and they were laughing. Inoue's food was terrifying, Rukia was kicking Ichigo in the gut, and Tatsuki had Chizuru in a headlock.

Sado sighed.

Ishida asked, _What's up, Sado?_

The boy shook his head. Absolutely nothing, thank goodness.

This was worth every horror the enemy could come up with.

/

The moment after battle, when Sado picked himself up from the ground, brushed himself off, surveyed the remainder of his opponent, lying in pieces. He was weak, to be sure, from the ordeal, but he was breathing. He could count the number of heartbeats in his chest, he could flex his muscles, and he could place one foot in front of each other. He looked forward.

Inoue's small hands were up, and her orange light was shining: healing someone close by.

Ishida was panting, his brows furrowed, rolling his shoulders as if to knock out a kink.

Rukia sheathed her sword elegantly, standing with her brother in all their Kuchiki power.

Ichigo was standing up, his clothes in tatters, his body barely holding up. But he was there.

Everyone was accounted for, and he could go to them now.

/

—_We're alive_, Sado reminded himself every single day. He tipped back his head to the skies, sitting with his friends all around him and his grandfather's pendant over his heart. _This is my soul's offering._

.

.

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_fin._

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A/N: yeah, not a shippy piece. maybe i'll do tatsuki/sado sometime, though. hmmmmmm

A/N: as always, i remain your indebted writer begging for **reviews**


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: another one for the Zanpakuto Rebellion. set probably in the middle of it, or something like that.

A/N: yes, i know her full name is sode no shirayuki. but i'm LAZY.

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: the angel trade

**Summary**: The rest of them fought for their souls, how could you let yours go? –Rukia, Shirayuki

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There she was, glowing like fresh snow, wrapped in a white kimono with long sleeves like moonlight, so dangerous and crushingly beautiful that it hurt her master to look at her. And she pulled back her upper lip from her teeth in a terrible grimace. Her hand was on the hilt of her sword.

_The rest of them fought for their souls, how could you let yours go? _She cried._ Are you so heartless? Are you so cold? _

The girl before her raised her head. She did not realize how much like her elder brother she was, in that moment. _For my loved ones, I would abandon even my soul._ And now she narrowed her eyes. _You know this about me._

But Shirayuki, so famous for her poised beauty, had lost her composure. _Am I not your loved one also?_

Now Rukia smiled a little sadly. _Yes, you are. You are me, and you are everything I ever wanted to be._

_Then why? Why did you abandon me?_ Her eyes were glassy, but pride stopped up her tears. She took a step forward, heard the crunch of snow beneath her feet. Yes, she reveled in it. She could feel all her power and vitality, every ounce of spiritual energy pumping wildly in her immortal veins. She raised her head to match her master's.

_You went too far_, Rukia said now, firmly, not backing down under the sight of this ethereal creature's rage. _You threatened the people I love._

_So you abandoned me for that foolish human boy?_ Shirayuki accused. She saw red. She saw human flesh, destined to die and decay anyway. _When you were the one who dragged him into danger in the first place, handing me over to him like I was some cheap knife?_

She approached, raising a hand to strike Rukia.

She was seeing a dark night and a Hollow before her master—how could Rukia just give her body to that monster? And then hand her sword to a human boy? And then—then she was willing to destroy her—for _him_?

_I will never forgive you—!_

_We've been together for such a long time—my life began with you, and it will end with you._

_How could you separate us?_

The girl threw her tiny arms around the woman's waist and held her fast. The delicate hand stopped, did not land on her cheek. Instead, Rukia clenched Shirayuki to her with all the willpower in her body and did not let go.

_I will not regret Ichigo_, she told her, _but if you'll fight with me, I will never let you go again._

She tilted her head back and murmured, _How can I trust you?_

Rukia was quiet a moment before saying, _You are a part of me. Can you really say you would not have done the same?_

Shirayuki closed her eyes now. She was seeing Zangetsu, standing in all his dark glory before her, with eyes like hot coals burning with gratitude. Now, they were a pair together, because she had lent herself to Ichigo.

She finally whispered, in a voice that betrayed her deep loneliness: _But_—_we were apart for such a long time._

_I know_. Rukia released her now, and held out her hand instead. She met pale bright eyes with her own dark ones and offered an earnest smile. _If you'll have me, we'll never be apart again._

Still the woman hesitated. _So you're asking now?_

The girl-master nodded her head, very solemnly. _I will not make demands on you. I will only ask you to allow me to protect you again._

Shirayuki looked for a long time at the petite Soul Reaper before her, detected the strength and breadth of her spirit, the spirit that faced down enemies without blinking, sacrificed her life for strangers, and even abandoned her greatest dream for the sake of a loved one. This was the source of her rumored beauty.

_Oh my young master, you are infinitely precious to me._

Silver bells jingled and laughed: she took her master's hand and bent a knee. _I am yours._

_._

_._

_._

_fin._

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A/N: my lovely readers, i appreciate your **reviews**


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: i just feel like i need to address this very interesting relationship. i don't ascribe to the father/daughter thing, but i don't necessarily see it as romantic. sooooo...

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: let your conscience be your guide

**Summary**: She was the angel on his shoulder. Literally. –Yachiru/Zaraki

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She was so small he could barely feel her weight on the massive length of his shoulder. He could almost forget about her, sometimes, just strolling around Seireitei. Then she giggled.

"Kenny!"

A cotton-candy child with big brown eyes and a smile, sitting on his shoulder, the shoulder that felt so heavy when she wasn't on it. Funny to him, how something so small and seemingly harmless could wreck him with just his name in her mouth. A nickname at that.

Zaraki did not put stock in relationships. He did not put stock in people. He only cared about his strength, the thrill of the fight—for that is where I am most alive, when I have to fight for my every breath—!

"I will not leave, Kenny! Kenny has not lost!" she cried to his enemies in her high-pitched squeal. She sounded like she was merely talking about her lost puppy, but the hard glint in her eyes on these rare occasions gave her age away. This was absolute confidence, learned over centuries.

'Kenny will not lose!"

Oh, and he had to remind himself not to lose himself in the thrill of the hunt, because, because—that voice was calling him home. Because where would she sit, if he did not have a shoulder to offer her, of if his shoulder was so bloody she could not touch him?

And though she did encourage his fights, enabled him forty ways from Sunday to find fighters good enough to challenge him, she also carried him on her own tiny shoulders to safety, to salvation. At these times, he could not remember if he offered her a place on his shoulder, or if she had merely assumed him as her throne.

"Kenny!" she'd call, and sometimes even jingle the bells in his hair, laughing a silver laugh as she did so. "Let's go!" and he followed her finger whichever direction she pointed, even though she was usually wrong. It just felt right; somehow, it felt natural, to do exactly as she said, as if she were a grasshopper whispering in his ear about good and evil.

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_fin._

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A/N: **reviewreviewreviewplzkthx**


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: another stupid one for you to wince at, my loves

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: pretty Renji is pretty

**Summary**: "No, Inoue, you may not braid my hair." –Orihime/Renji CRACK

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"Stop it, Inoue," he growled a little, sitting cross-legged on the floor. His zanpakuto was standing straight up, rigidly, at attention. "I'm trying to talk to Zabimaru."

"Aw, but I can't," she smiled a little, her hands on him, "besides, you do that all the time."

"I have to, it helps me get stronger."

"Yes, well, we're not fighting anyone right now particularly, and you should relax a bit." She did not remove her slim white fingers.

"That's all good and fine—" and here he turned over his shoulder at the pretty girl behind him, "—but why the hell do you have to braid my hair?!"

"Don't yell at Inoue, idiot," Rukia murmured from her place on the bed, where she was reading manga. "She's just having a little fun."

"I am a Lieutenant in the Thirteen Court Guards of Seireitei," he barked, "and I will not have braided hair!"

Rukia shot him a look that reminded him of Hell's chains and dogs barking at him. How did she make fire appear at her shoulder and devil horns sprout from her head?

"_You'll let Inoue braid your hair if she wants to_," she said, effectively scaring him into submission.

At that, the big tattooed Soul Reaper bowed his head and looked away. "Okay, Inoue," he murmured, putting his chin in his hand. "Do it if you're gonna."

The human girl behind him squealed with pleasure. "Thank you, Abarai-kun!" she cried, proceeding to run her sinful little fingers through his hair.

"Your hair is the prettiest color," she cooed.

"It is _not_."

"_Renji_."

"Yes ma'am."

"And it's so long! So lovely..." Inoue's voice trailed off in happiness.

He settled back and closed his eyes, letting Inoue's fingers work magic on his scalp, and, inadvertently, on his nerves. She hmm'd and purr'd according to her mood, very catlike and sweet behind him. Rukia glanced at the pair and noted with a smirk the redness of Renji's ears.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," she commented, noting the way Inoue's, ahem, _front_, was practically glued to Renji's back as she fought to get good leverage for her task.

"Shut up," he ground out, but there wasn't too much venom. Where on _earth_ did Inoue learn to do this with her hands? He bit back a sigh of pleasure, and instead, rolled his shoulders a little. He heard Rukia's giggle, but chose not to rise to her challenge.

"Inoue? Rukia? Renji?" Ichigo's voice cut through the haze. "What the hell? What are you doing in my room?"

"Kurosaki-kun!" the former answered with a little wave. "Braiding Abarai-kun's hair!"

He hesitated. "I can see that…"

Renji opened his eyes (when had he closed them? Damn it, he was getting too soft), and Ichigo muffled a laugh when he said: "And I really do think sunflower yellow compliments those cornrows well, Renji."

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_fin._

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A/N: lololol i like stupid things and when tough guys get bullied by pretty girls plz **review**


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: set during the Soul Society arc, contains rampant spoilers

A/N: i like writing sad fics and being sad :((( OH RANGIKU I'M SORRY

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title:** an informal forget-me-not

**Summary**: I'll see you in the morning. –Gin/Matsumoto

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The night before Ichigo and his troupe arrived in Soul Society to save the Kuchiki girl, Gin knew they were coming. Being alongside Aizen every step of the way, he watched the boy himself with minimal interest, and he knew it was only a matter of time.

_There are the things that don't matter at all to me, and there is the one thing that does._ He had to keep repeating it to himself the entire night.

He found Matsumoto in her tiny Captain's empty office; she'd been about to pour herself a drink when he slipped in. She turned from the secret cabinet with the sake in hand when he'd appeared, and she nearly shrieked—"Gin, don't you dare do that to me again—you scared the crap outta me—"

He didn't have any words for her, only a tight feeling in his chest. _There are the things that don't matter at all to me, and there is the one thing that does._

He took the sake from her hands and poured two drinks. She raised an eyebrow.

"You're joining me tonight?"

He nodded with his smile in place. "If you don't mind, Lieutenant." His words were moderately teasing; he was giving her the chance to turn him away.

She chuckled a small chuckle. "Of course not."

They sat together at the table, not speaking, just drinking slowly. With Gin, she always drank slowly, feeling the liquor seep into her skin and her system, relishing the heat and the freedom of the drink. A flush gathered from her chest to her cheeks. Gin, however, did not get drunk. He only drank and retained his same smile and half-lidded eyes and silence.

The sun fell; it danced in the curls of her hair.

_There are the things that don't matter at all to me, and there is the one thing that does._

Matsumoto did not ask why he was joining her tonight; it did not happen often, but when it did, she refused to question the gift. She merely sat across from him, getting drunker and drunker, and slower; her eyelids felt heavy, and she struggled to fight sleep. He did not talk to her, just sat and stared at her. It was enough.

Finally she started to slump forward, and her hands crawled across the table to find his. "Gin," she sighed his name, like it was a wish.

When she fell asleep against the table, the still-sober Gin put away the sake in her secret place and moved to her side, where he lifted her in all her curves easily in his arms. When her body shifted, she said his name again, and his normal grin softened. His jaw relaxed, and his breath came easier.

_There are the things that don't matter at all to me, and there is the one thing that does._

He took her back to her barracks, slipping in unnoticed of course, though he carried the most beautiful woman in the Seireitei in his arms. Reaching her bed, he placed her gently on the mattress and took the zanpakuto from her belt. He set his own Shinso next to hers against the wall, and he took a knee, slipping her shoes and socks from her feet.

"Gin, is that you?" she murmured, half-asleep.

"Yes, Rangiku," he answered quietly.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Just being here," she told him, closing her eyes againfor a moment. Then she sighed, shifted herself over a little bit, patted the bed beside her. Smiled with no guile but all the seduction. "Join me?"

He nodded his head, smiling. "If you don't mind, Lieutenant."

Contrary to popular belief, there was no sex that night. Rather, Gin held a drunk Rangiku very tightly in his arms while she slept, and he watched her, dreading the months ahead, the look he knew he would see in her eyes in a matter of days, the moment he had to turn himself away from her. He pressed himself as close to her as he could, memorizing the feel of her skin and the smell of her hair.

Rangiku was his life-changer. He'd picked up a golden child in the fields, and she'd followed him ever since.

_There are the things that don't matter at all to me, and there is the one thing that does._

When the night started to peel away from the sky, and blue crept back into the Seireitei horizon, Gin knew it was time to go. He started to disentangle himself from her, but she opened her eyes sleepily.

"Gin? Where are you going?" It was an old question; he heard the empty expectation in her voice.

He gave her the most genuine smile he could manage, considering the circumstances. He brushed a hand through her long hair, pulled a thick portion away from her face.

"Don't worry, I'll see you in the morning."

She smiled at him, already disbelieving, but she closed her eyes obediently and went back to sleep. Gin's smile flattened completely into a frown, and his eyebrows knitted themselves. His hands were shaking when he reclaimed Shinso from the wall.

_There are the things that don't matter at all to me, and there is the one thing that does._

Only a few hours later, Ichigo came for Rukia, and Gin left with Aizen.

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_fin._

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A/N: i promise i'm not depressed, it just looks like it. plz **review** maybe i'll write happier stuff?


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: i ship ishida/orihime way too hard for a show that practically never gives me a reason to do so. sigh.

A/N: title from the lana del ray song "video games"

A/N: set at her rescue during the Arrancar arc, right around Ichigo's fight with Ulquiorra

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: Video Games

**Summary**: There are many things he wants to say. –Ishida/Orihime

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_(Is this what it's like, to save the princess?)_

"Inoue—" he starts, and she looks up.

Ishida blinks; she looks like she's forgotten he was standing there. The wind rustles her hair and the white Espada clothes she wears. She's still looking at him, but her mind is above the ceiling, with Kurosaki.

_(What does the knight say to the princess?_ he wonders.)

_I'm glad you're alright._

It doesn't feel correct. She isn't alright, not yet anyway, not with her champion still fighting. He sighs. The girl looks like a sun, even amongst the rubble of Las Noches. Not even this place of eternal night was able to blot out the sun.

_I came here to save you_.

He wants to be heroic, like Kurosaki was when he saved Rukia from execution. For a moment, he envies Rukia's instinctive understanding of Kurosaki. She could call him an idiot, and he would know that she was working for his good. Inoue does not understand. She's still staring with big grey eyes.

_(The knight would whisk his prize away to his kingdom.)_

_I put my life on hold too_, he thinks. _I gave up everything to be here for you, too—!_

She's still waiting, but he cannot drum up the right words for this moment. What did he think he was going to say, when he finally found her? Now, Ishida figures that he would've just watched passively while Inoue wept and thanked them all, but mostly Kurosaki.

_Kurosaki-kun_, she'd say. And she'd probably cry a little, and brush her tears prettily away. _Oh thank you_, everyone. But she'd be looking at him.

_(The knight does not allow the princess to dance with the pauper.)_

_I feel bad when you look at him_.

He blinks, trying not to let bitterness take this moment away from them, but, he reflects, this moment does not really belong to them, does it? Inoue's still listening for Kurosaki's cries of pain or of victory, waiting for him to sweep down from the ceiling and take her away.

The proud Quincy bows his head a little.

_(A knight does not bow his head!—even less so a Quincy!)_

_He won't do that, _he wants to tell her. _He won't sweep you off your feet. _Kurosaki doesn't know how to sweep someone like Inoue off her feet. He doesn't understand the power in his veins—he still can't even read Spiritual Pressure! Kurosaki would never be able to—

_But I could_. The words feel like a challenge, or a promise.

"Ishida?" she calls softly, her voice concerned. She steps a little closer.

_(__The knight dares dragons and witches and black magic. _

_It's you, it's you, it's all for you—everything I do.)_

There are many things he could say, but he knows they won't reach her now. Ishida vows to himself that he will make time—another time—to tell her everything he wants to tell her. For now—

_(The knight drops his knees to the princess.)_

"Everything will be alright, Inoue," he says, offering her a tiny smile. "Kurosaki will win."

She looks relieved, but he knows from her eyes that she _knows_. She knows that is not what he wanted to say. And it teaches him to hope, _yes i will say someday_.

_(The knight carries her home.)_

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_fin._

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A/N: i don't know about this. please **review.**


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: i don't know if i like this; i feel like i'm trying to grasp something too complex for me to adequately explain. i made up a lot of this, i don't think the anime/manga necessarily points to these feelings in byakuya, but i kinda like em ;)

A/N: for my kind reviewer and fellow lover of angst, SaraAndIchigo. i know it's not ichigo/rukia as much, but LOVE YOU

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: back away slowly

**Summary**: Byakuya Kuchiki did not tolerate weakness. –Byakuya/Hisana & Ichigo/Rukia

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Byakuya Kuchiki did not tolerate weakness. Though his face remained impassive and his Spiritual Pressure unruffled, he could practically smell weakness on others. His nose twitched ever so slightly, and the putrid smell enveloped him.

The smell of weakness was strongest on Ichigo Kurosaki.

_You don't belong here_, he told the boy time and time again. _Go back to the World of the Living and never return._

Though the orange-haired boy flared in anger and his Spiritual Energy spiked, it was not his physical power that Byakuya doubted. He did not blink when he made the assessment, swiftly and without mistake.

_Your soul is weak, boy. You could never touch me._

He'd come, foolishly, after Rukia into Soul Society, thinking he could strut around with a big sword and show everyone that his strength could save lives.

But there she was, with her white robes and red collar, her eyes calm and her fists relaxed. She faced death with nothing more than a flattened mouth and steady eyes. Very much a Kuchiki, with her head held high and her honor like a crown upon her head. But, oh, she was Hisana's sister, too.

Hisana had laid there in that bed and let herself waste away, she had smiled so softly at him, asked him to please, just let her go because she was going anyway—and this was unforgivable. How could she consent to leave him? How could she just bow her head and let sickness wear her away?

_No!_ Byakuya had not shouted at anyone since he was a child. _No, you're stronger than that, aren't you?_

And Hisana had looked at him with eyes glassy and said: _There is a kind of strength that accepts death, my love._

And how it had hurt, hurt all the way down to his aristocratic bones, to have this girl from the Rukongai dying while in his care. _I had sworn to protect and love you_, he kept thinking. _So how?_

It was a betrayal.

For decades, he looked at her picture with the same memory, the same thoughts in his head.

_Don't you dare call me 'love' with that mouth that betrays me_—he threw back his head and wept over her. _I was supposed to protect you! _You_ gave up on _me_!_

_Love triumphs over weakness, doesn't it—shouldn't it—why didn't it—?_

But here was Rukia, in white. _I will accept my death because it is a debt due_, she told him very quietly, after all the others had left. Her eyes told him,_ under no other conditions would I ever accept death._

He was angry again.

_How could you just let me take you?_ Byakuya wondered. _Don't you understand—? Are you really like her after all? _She didn't know, she couldn't know that Hisana had—

_If this is how you want it_, then_—I will follow your laws to the letter. _He took her, and he locked her up.

But,

_How could you kill your sister?_ the boy had barked, unforgiving, not understanding. _You're her older brother! It's your job to keep her safe!_

The head of the Kuchiki clan glared back, uncompromising. _You're too weak to understand—you are human. You humans fear death and let it master you. You do not master death._

Humans were all weakness and no strength, all bark and no bite. They may claw and scream and yell about their accomplishments, but they died at the end of the day. And it was Byakuya's burden to watch over these stray pups all of eternity, to watch them fester and burn in the face of evil. They would betray him the moment a Hollow offered them another chance. They would betray him and die.

Byakuya could smell that same putrid smell every time he came into contact with the boy. The smell of a weakness that was utterly human and breakable.

And she'd made him feel so very human and breakable—with a smile like wilting flowers._ Let me protect you_, he'd told her.

And now—and now—

_I cannot depend upon weakness._

(Only on the latest, drunkest of nights did he wonder:_ Is it your weakness or mine?_)

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_fin._

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A/N: eh? i'm sorry if it's confusing. **plz review thanks**


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: i honestly think isshin is my favorite character, no joke

A/N: set after Aizen's defeat, before Ichigo loses his powers

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: family saga

**Summary**: Isshin and Ryuuken, at tea. –Isshin/Ryuuken

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They were quite a pair, sitting together casually in the café. One, a dark and solid-looking man with a carefree grin but stories in his eyes. The other, pale and austere, lean and silvery and secretive. They looked more like they belonged in a bar somewhere with sake between their fingers, but the big one ordered oolong tea for the both of them. The big one slapped the silver one on the back when he approached.

"Ryuuken! Glad that you could make it."

"Don't touch me, Kurosaki."

"You know you can call me Isshin."

Ryuuken did not answer, but he took his seat and clasped his hands together on the table, frowning. Isshin thought how remarkable it was, that he could frown so much.

"I presume this is about our sons," said Ryuuken, taking the first sip of the tea.

"Yes and no," Isshin answered, following with a gulp of his own. "I'd also just like to talk to you, y'know. With everything that's happened."

The silence that followed showed the two men meeting eyes meaningfully; they thought about their sons' facial expressions when they returned. Yes, thankfully they had returned, but nothing was the same.

"Yours is going to lose his powers, so mine has no need of him anymore." The words were a slap.

But Isshin laughed. "That's nonsense," he said. "Your son and mine are friends, believe it or not." When Ryuuken made no answer but a deeper scowl, Isshin sighed. "God, you're hopeless."

"You're the hopeless one, unable to let go of it," Ryuuken sighed, glancing outside. His eyes were still on the outdoors when he said, "Why did you really call me here?"

"I told you, to talk." Isshin placed both hands on his cup, as if cradling something small and helpless. "Ichigo won't ask me about the past, because he's afraid of hurting me. And you won't talk about the past with your son." He blinked, slowly, and Ryuuken heard the warmth in his voice, and the loneliness. Funny that Isshin could be both. Then he looked up, and they met eyes again. "Perhaps we could talk."

"I have my reasons for not talking to Uryuu," the other man said, crossing his arms on the table.

"What are those?"

He pushed up his glasses in a manner very similar to his young son, looking so very powerful and cold in the café. Isshin knew this was the man his son both feared and hated and admired. It was all mixed up in there, somehow, those emotions—he wondered what exactly Ichigo felt for him, and if his equally dense child knew himself.

"Quincies are so very proud," Isshin commented suddenly, a little thoughtlessly.

"Yes," Ryuuken said. "And for what?" His companion blinked at the sudden darkness in his words, but he didn't care. Ryuuken stared at the tea in front of him. "My father died for nothing. Hollows will always exist. Soul Reapers will always exist." A pause. "Quincies, for all their pride, are the losers."

"Is that why you don't talk?"

"I don't talk because, what is there to talk about? A history of failure? A history of rage?" Ryuuken shook his head. "This is the 21st century. I'm leaving the world of souls and mysterious powers alone."

"Admirable," Isshin sighed again. "But what about Uryuu? Are you going to leave him alone too?"

"Don't tell me how to handle my own," Ryuuken was suddenly fierce.

"I'm only asking," he said calmly. "You and I have the same dilemma." Now he leaned forward conspiratorially. The light of the rainy weather outside glinted off the warmth in his eyes, and suddenly turned him very fierce too.

"You and I can leave the past behind all we want; in fact, we have. But our sons cannot. Our sons inherit our battles. Our sons inherit our strength as well as our weakness." He glanced outside and back again. "No matter how many times I turn it around in my head—I thought I could leave it, too, but it came straight for Ichigo, for my family, over and over again." He held his hands out in front of him on the table, turned up and open-palmed. "And I could do so little for him." His flicked his gaze back up to Ryuuken. "Do you not feel the same way?"

The other man sat back for several minutes, unreadable as ever. He was not surprised by the man's words; he knew it would be harder for Isshin, a former captain, to leave that world behind than anyone else. But then again, he had also sensed his son's astonishment at the sight of himself wielding the Quincy arrow—and how _angry_ that made him. Was it so strange? Was it so surprising that he, too, was strong?

"My son has managed well without me," he said softly.

"You don't think that."

When Ryuuken did not answer, Isshin sat back, stared far beyond him, into his memories. He felt creaky, old. Though he was as strong as an ox, though he had trained Ichigo since he was a boy, he had raised a son with both a good heart and a fear like chains around his ankles.

_Are you going to cry again, because you could not protect something—?_ He'd cried when Aizen headed for Soul Society, and he'd realized it was the first time he'd addressed this problem.

"We are not the ones who taught our sons about strength," he finally said.

Ryuuken grimaced at the thought of his father, the old man who is now long gone. Then he furrowed his brow at Isshin. "I know I didn't teach Uryuu," he said, "but who—?"

Isshin's smile showed immense peace. "A Kuchiki, naturally."

The Quincy squinted his eyes in disgust. "Oh."

The other father scratched his head. "My son told me, 'I have no way of going into your heart without trampling on your feelings.' Said a friend taught that to him." He looked at his palms, still sitting on the table. "It seems she's the one who made my boy a man."

Ryuuken did not look interested, but he said, "We have limitations anyway. It seems you have not accepted yours."

"No, I have," Isshin said, and he grinned at the other. "But I just like to know someone else is in the same boat. Misery loves company and all."

"I'm not miserable just because my foolish son continues to run through the streets in costume."

"But you helped him regain that foolishness."

Ryuuken only stared back, blank-faced. Isshin closed his eyes.

"It is our job, I guess, to stand by until we are the last resort," he said, beginning to heave himself up from the booth. "Our sons will try every other avenue before coming to us, and they will grow immensely. They will be stronger than either of us can conceive. Then, they'll hit a brick wall." He exhaled, grinned. "When that time comes, we're always ready, aren't we, Ryuuken?"

Instead of waiting for an answer, he patted the man again on the shoulder and chuckled, "I'm leaving you with the check, old friend."

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_fin._

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A/N: their dynamic is so interesting. what do you think? tell me in a **review**


	31. Chapter 31

A/N: thanks to the reviewer who suggested i change the pairings on the story every time i update; i don't know why that never occurred to me, haha

A/N: set at some indeterminate time after Aizen's defeat

A/N: i've made my decision: it's hina/hitsu for me, not hitsu/karin. sorry not sorry. i'll prolly still write for both though, lawl- i just wanna torture hitsugaya

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: at the kotatsu table

**Summary**: He wonders when he'll be able to look at her again without seeing him. –Hitsugaya/Hinamori, Aizen

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"Please come in," she murmured behind the door, but he hesitated, blinked.

It was hard for him to admit it, even to himself, but he could not bear the sight of her now. Oh, she was beautiful and fragile and strong and wonderful as ever, yes, of course; she had the same brown hair and eyes and fresh summer skin, the same sweetness in her voice that he had secretly cherished as a child.

That was a long time ago.

_Shiro-chan!_ She'd said, so excitedly, her voice so bright. _Captain Aizen asked me to be his Lieutenant!_

Had the man planned, even then, to ruin her for him? The boy could hear the love seeping from her voice, so much admiration for this tall, handsome man with the deep voice and kind smile. He was glad that she didn't see him, at the last, when his face was swallowed into the mouth of the Hollow, and the Hogyoku replaced his soul in his chest. _Was there anything there, to begin with?_ He wondered, and fisted his hands. _Were you ever one of us—?_

Even still. She called him Captain, always.

This was the kindness in her that he'd appreciated. This was the kindness that visited him when she could, though she was at the Academy; this was the kindness that had fed him watermelon and looked at the city from their perch at his Grandmother's home. And that place, that memory, was always buried deep within him. As he grew older, he only pushed it in deeper, further and further into the ice-cave, where he couldn't reach it unless he melted the snow and stepped there with bare feet.

Hyorinmaru asked, many times over the years, _Who is the girl with no name and watermelon in her hands?_ But he could not afford to speak her name, at least not now.

The dragon bowed his head, understood.

Because now, now she was a smile that had had to fix itself after his sword had driven through her. If it had been as simple as Aizen trying to kill her, if it had been as true as that—but it wasn't, it wasn't—and he couldn't tell who he hated more, Aizen, or himself.

_I followed you all the way here, and it's come to this._ Her blood on his hands, her limp body in his arms, and one word between them—

_Why?_

_It wasn't me, I promise_—he wanted to weep there, with the dizzying affects of the illusion before his eyes, and the trembling in his hands. He wanted to clutch there and apologize, for everything—_I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry_—but he didn't know where to begin.

So he flew instead. He'd wanted to settle this for her, he'd wanted to be the one with the sword run through her nightmares. He failed. _It wasn't me, I would never hurt you—_

"Hinamori," he murmured her name. Stepped inside, because she was waiting. She was sitting at a kotatsu table, because it was winter, and she was smiling at him.

_How could you smile at me like that, when Aizen—when I—_

But when he looked down at her hands, she was eating watermelon. She held it out.

"Have some, Shiro-chan."

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_fin._

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A/N: i remain your weeping writer of sad things. please **review**, they make me smile and act silly like inoue


	32. Chapter 32

A/N: title from the film/novel by david foster wallace that inspired this one

A/N: set during the invaders arc; specifically references the Captains' meeting in Ichigo's room. kind of an obscure moment, but i really liked it.

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: brief interviews with hideous men

**Summary**: Never again. –Ichigo/Rukia, Nozomi

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Her voice was very quiet in the dark. "Ichigo."

He did not bother to be surprised that she was there; he sat up and clicked the light on. "What is it?"

She was sitting cross-legged on his bed, looking very serious. "Something came over you at the emergency meeting earlier. What is it?"

He blinked at her astute powers over his emotions, but quickly brushed it off. "What? Nothing."

Rukia sighed. "You're very concerned about Nozomi, I get that. But something else is bothering you." She drew her knees up and leaned her body forward, curling into herself. "If you don't want to talk about it, that's okay. But I want you to know that I noticed."

The boy scoffed. "If I wanted to talk, I'd have talked."

She was quiet and contemplative for a moment. "Okay then." She started to get up and leave the room. "I'll be with your sisters if you need."

Her gravity unnerved him, and he coughed a little to get her attention. When she turned over her shoulder to glance in question, he hesitated again. She wasn't in pajamas, he finally noticed. She was in her gigai still, in a white dress she'd been wearing during the day.

"You couldn't sleep?" he asked, none too pathetically.

She looked away, still so grave and serious. His grave and serious girl, with her years on her shoulders and her resolve to surrender herself to _anything_, if it means the safety of her friends. And she was still trying to protect him.

"She—she, uh, reminds me of you," Ichigo murmured, blinking. "You and the Hogyoku."

"What do you mean?"

"Captain Kurotsuchi, you heard what he said, right?" Rukia was approaching again, sitting across from him, listening. He tried to grasp the physical evidence of the fact as he spoke, to keep himself from trembling. "That Kageroza might have hidden something_ inside_ Nozomi. Just like what happened to you."

She sighed. "That's all over now, Ichigo. I'm fine, as you can see."

He gripped his fists and looked down. "I know that. I know, it's just—" he swallowed, frowning, "I just hate that some people work that way. I mean, he treated you like an _object_, Rukia. _Some kind of jewelry case_."

When he looked at her again, sitting in that white dress, he was seeing the red captivity collar of the Seireitei, seeing Aizen standing there in all his absolute power, seeing Aizen ripping something from the fabric of Rukia's soul—she was screaming, she was screaming in so much pain, and he couldn't do anything—

_It's amazing the things someone can do to you, if they decide you are less than human—__If they decide you are an object—They become all-powerful, they can do anything, anywhere, any time!_

"I can't let that happen to someone again," he said, his voice shaky with emotion. "I just _can't_."

"Ichigo." She did not touch him, she did not move. But her voice was strong. "We'll protect her. You need to think about your dwindling Spiritual Pressure, too."

"That doesn't matter," he said gruffly. "I just have to make sure she's okay."

"She will be." A pause. "As am I."

He looked at her, sitting there in his bedroom in a gigai and a white dress. He could still see red.

"Was there a scar?" he asked, and she could barely hear him.

In answer, she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress front. Pulling it open a little, he stared directly down the smooth column of her white neck, down her delicate collarbone, to her sternum, which was immaculate. He stopped thinking anything for a moment, swallowed up the sight of this fresh skin. He gasped at thoughts, at half-truths and half-questions.

_You are not an object. You are—_

_How could anyone make you less than you are?—you are—you make me feel—_

"No scar," she said, a small smile on her face, before rebuttoning her dress.

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_fin._

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A/N: please **review**


	33. Chapter 33

A/N: complete and utter crack. i love ishida's sewing badassery. also, i wrote this one before i discovered the absolutely brilliant similar crack fic, Prête à porter, by HardlyFatal. honestly, that one's much better, but i couldn't resist XD

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**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: simply fetching

**Summary**: Ishida's Quincy suits are a tad bit tight. –Ishida/all the ladies CRACK

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It was on his most recent visit to the Seireitei that one Uryuu Ishida threw everything into turmoil. He'd arrived alongside Ichigo, Sado, and Orihime merely to make a visit to Rukia for her birthday, and even though they'd come simply to pay their respects and chat pleasantly, it was one visit that the women of the Thirteen Court Guards never forgot.

"Did you see that guy?" Hinamori murmured to Captain Hitsugaya, her eyes never leaving him. "I don't think he's a soul, but what's he doing here?"

"Oh, that's Ishida, Kurosaki's friend," the boy said absently. "What about him?"

"Well—"

"—Oh my word, he's _sexy_!" came the voice of one very well-endowed Lieutenant, sneaking up behind her Captain and inadvertently bumping into the back of his head with her assets. "What has he been doing with himself lately?"

"Idiot Matsumoto!" her Captain cried, shoving her off of him.

"No, but really," she blinked, staring after their little group on the street. "What happened?"

Further down the street, their troupe bumped into Ikkaku and Yumichika; the former naturally tried to goad Ichigo into a fight, but the latter stood back and winced.

"What's with that look?" Ichigo blurted, noting the pained expression on the Seireitei's most beautiful Court Guard Squad member.

"I…you…" Yumichika flinched and tears gathered prettily in his eyes. "So beautiful!" he cried, pointing directly at Ishida. "Are you trying to usurp my place as the most beautiful Court Guard Squad member? I won't stand for it!"

"What are you even talking about?" Ichigo exclaimed, but Ishida pushed up his glasses.

"Of course not, I am a Quincy, after all."

"Are you mocking me?" Yumichika started to draw his sword. "I'll cut you up into ugly little pieces," he cried with the rage of a jealous model.

"Let's go everyone," Ishida sighed, starting forward. "We're here to see Kuchiki-san, after all."

Ichigo stared at the white back of the Quincy before shrugging his shoulders. Orihime, behind him, was flushing, and had been flushing for several hours now, but he just now noticed. "What the hell? You too, Inoue?"

She smiled a secret smile and scratched the back of her head. "I wonder?" and giggled a little bit before following Ishida. Sado mm'd at Ichigo and followed as well.

"Hey there, handsome!" Yoruichi called from a distant roof. She stood in the sunlight with her slim curvaceous body, hands on hips and a wily grin on her lips.

"Lady Yoruichi, how could you—?" came the startled and hurt voice of the Second Squad's Captain, next to her.

"What can I say? The man looks good," she answered nonchalantly, grinning at her not-so-secret admirer.

Ishida flashed a small smile at her, and the group pressed on.

Then around the corner came the peaceful figure of Captain Unohana, Lieutenant Isane at her side. At the sight of Ichigo and his friends, she smiled widely and greeted them. "Ah, Kurosaki," she nodded, then her eyes fell on Ishida. "And Ishida-san, you're looking well."

"Captain!" Isane gasped, her face pink.

But her superior officer only giggled like a schoolgirl. "Yes, you're looking _very_ well. I'll be at the clinic later today, Ishida-san, if you find yourself in need of a…physical." With that, she and her Lieutenant continued down the street.

Ichigo's face was white after that. "What in the world?" he asked, but no one bothered to answer.

Captains Kurotsuchi and Zaraki were arguing a little further down the street. They caught the ends of "barbarian" and "freak" being tossed loudly around, with the occasional, "Fight, Kenny, fight!" thrown in. When our heroes arrived on the scene, Nemu was the first of the group to notice.

"Quincy…" she murmured, her face blank. Then she tugged on her Captain's sleeve. "May I take him to the lab to perform experiments?"

He absently waved a hand. "Whatever you want, Nemu; I have no use for him."

Yachiru popped up from Zaraki's shoulder. "Ichi!" she cried, and then she blinked at Ishida. "Oh, you must be the one everyone's talking about!" she exclaimed before hopping off her perch. She raced to Ishida, where she only came up to about his hips. She stared up with wild curiosity before shrugging. "Well, I don't know what 'banging' has to do with your Quincy suit, anyway. Why would you wanna 'bang the Quincy to death'? Has he lost in a fight?"

To this question, Zaraki threw back his head and laughed a wild wolf's laugh. Ichigo took this opportunity to scurry away with his friends before the insane man challenged them all to a fight.

At their destination, the Kuchiki mansion, several maids and butlers gaped openly (and disgracefully, if Byakyua had seen it), as the group walked down their halls. When they slid open the door of Rukia's room, they all grinned and said: "Happy birthday, Rukia!"

Renji Abarai, already sitting by her side, looked up and his face dropped. He pointed a shaky finger at Ishida. "W-what game are you playing at?" he gulped.

"What the hell is wrong with everybody?" Ichigo glared. "It's just the same old Ishida!"

Rukia looked up from her place on the floor, and when her eyes landed on the boy in question, her entire face filled up with color. "H-hello, Ishida-san," she murmured quietly. "Thank you for the birthday wishes."

Ishida smiled a knowing smile and nodded. "Of course, Kuchiki-san."

"What is going on?" Ichigo continued to stomp his foot. "I don't get it!"

"You don't see it? The man looks like a damned sex god today!" Renji shouted, his own face brilliant red to match his hair.

Ichigo, taken aback, looked again at his friend, who stood there passively, pushing up his glasses. Sure, he'd noticed that the Quincy suit was a different one from usual, but—

_Oh._

This one had a cape that reached the ground and dragged majestically after him, a royal blue to match a Quincy cross that splayed itself over his chest. And, when had that chest ever looked so _broad_ and _strong_? The white fabric fitted it and accentuated his rippling muscles—where had _those_ come from?—from his princely collarbone to his rounded shoulders and biceps. _And those pants_. No—leotards. White leotards that left nothing to the imagination.

He should have looked like a bad knock-off of David Bowie from Labyrinth in those leotards, but instead, he looked like a super hero. A movie star. A sex god.

"_What the hell is all of this for, Ishida!_?" Ichigo finally asked, exasperated.

"For Kuchiki-san's birthday, of course," the teenaged sex god replied calmly. Then he looked at the birthday girl sitting on the floor. "Wanna see the rest?"

Rukia grabbed her phone. "Let me just make a few calls first."

—And, let's just say, all the females of the Seireitei had dirty dreams about the Quincy for weeks after.

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_fin._

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A/N: lololololol wanna reward stupidity with a **review**?


	34. Chapter 34

A/N: sad things. set after Aizen's defeat, obviously. spoilers, as always.

A/N: title from the poem by dylan thomas

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**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: do not go gentle into that good night

**Summary**: Kira and Matsumoto, coping. –Gin/Matsumoto, Kira

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He set down his sake cup and leaned back in his chair, heaving a sigh. She was facedown on the table, her hair spilling everywhere.

"What was he like, back then?" he asked quietly.

She knew what he meant—what he couldn't say: _when he died_. She blinked, too drunk to really cry.

"Exactly the way you'd think," she murmured, not picking her head up from the table. Kira blinked slowly at her beneath his blonde bangs. "He was very strong, but he wasn't grinning." She could recall him opening one eye and looking at Ichigo—she saw the acceptance registering in his features, how his tense bones suddenly relaxed. Finished.

_(But how could you be finished?_ She wanted to howl. _Just, let me—)_

"I'm glad the Captain was strong," Kira answered awkwardly.

It wasn't what he meant, it wasn't what he wanted to say, exactly—but how could you form words to say something like this? He ran his hand heavily over his face, as if wiping away the tears that weren't there.

Something flinched in her; he'd called Gin _Captain_.

"He's always been strong," she told him, sitting up now. She did not slouch, the way a drunk would. Her back was ramrod straight, just her hair was a mess, and her eyes had dark circles under them.

"I was jealous of you, Rangiku," he confessed suddenly, putting his face in his hands on the table. "I wanted to know him like you know him."

She blinked, slowly, like he had. Everything seemed very slow now. She looked at her hands, lying loosely in her they were children, he used to lay there, in the little shack in the Rukongai. Back before she had hips and thighs, back before she was beautiful and she was still wearing cheap kimono. Gin looked almost exactly the same, in all of her memories. The same silver hair, so soft against her skin, the same slate blue eyes that were afraid to really open, the same mouth that alternated between grinning and flattening. She treasured that mouth.

_(It is the mouth of a snake_, he'd told her once, when they were young.

He'd said it so softly and so sadly that she wept, right there in his arms.

_Why are you crying? You must have known_, he said. His mouth was not grinning then. _You're so strange, Rangiku.)_

"What would you like to know?" she asked.

Kira shuddered a moment. "I don't even know." He was still sitting with his face in his hands. "I don't _know_."

"I'd tell you anything," she said. _We are the ones who must remember him well_, she thought.

"I pointed my sword at Hinamori," he blurted. "For him." Now Kira was looking at her, the grief in his eyes so profound she could not breathe a moment, it was so stifling. "I could have killed her—anyone—for him."

"You two are very much alike," she said, her eyes unreadable.

_(Stop crying_, he'd said to her.

His hands were on her shoulders, pulling her away from his chest, and he tipped his head down to look into her face.

_Stop it, Rangiku_.

She noted the desperation in his voice—when had his voice become so hoarse?

_Please—please, stop crying.)_

"You're the only one he would have protected," Kira said. "He told me that, once."

Matsumoto didn't answer for several minutes. "He did?"

Kira looked hard at her. "Yes."

(It was the day Gin asked for Kira to be his Lieutenant. The two were walking together down the streets, a respectable distance apart because Kira did not understand this man and why he kept grinning and why did he want _Kira_, of all people?

_You want to ask me a question_, Gin had said, and he looked at Kira out of one eye, his grin lopsided and sinister. _What is it?_

Taken aback, the Soul Reaper figured it was useless to deny it. _Yes_, he said carefully. _I've heard rumors about you_.

_Rumors?_ He sounded barely interested, but he was grinning.

_Yes_, Kira said again. _That you're dangerous. That you don't care about anything, or anyone_. Now Kira looked away_. I just don't understand how to serve under you if that's the case._

_Ah, well they're pretty much right_, Gin had chuckled.

Kira caught the way he said it. _Pretty much?_

Gin's grin loosened some, flattened into merely a small smile. _You see her, there?_ He pointed ahead of them, where a girl, her fair hair just brushing her shoulders, was walking with a scowling child. She laughed and teased the boy, and Kira noted how utterly different she was from Gin—full hair, full lips, a full body. His Captain next to him was all sharp edges and hunched shoulders.

_She's the only one_, Gin said, very seriously.)

Matsumoto had a strange look on her face then, sitting across from Kira at the table. She took another large swig of drink from the sake bottle, unable to process.

"He trusted you, very much, to have said that," she finally said. Kira's face looked surprised.

"He never told you—?"

Now Matsumoto smiled at him, very softly, and he remembered that she was beautiful. Very beautiful. "Can you even imagine Gin telling me something like that?" She shook her head. "We weren't quite like that."

Kira looked out the window. "The Captain was very private." _But that was something I understood very well_, he thought. _How he felt about you._

_(Why do you want me to be your Lieutenant, then?_ Kira had asked, very confused.

Gin looked at him, and he was not smiling. It was the first time Kira had seen this expression. _Because you're sad_, he told him. Then his eyes drifted back to the girl. _Your sword understands pain._

Kira's grief became his badge of honor.)

They were both looking out the window now. She put her chin in her hand and sighed, closed her eyes.

_(Rangiku, listen to me, listen to me_, Gin was shaking her. _I know you don't understand_.

He patted her hair; it was still pretty short, not at all like the mane she would grow, when she was trying to catch his eye amongst the crowds of Seireitei.

_I won't let anything happen to you, Rangiku. You won't ever have to cry again._

He smiled at her; she blinked at him.

_I won't cry if you don't_, she promised him, her tiny voice sounding young even to her own ears.

His smile turned secretive, even to her. _It's a deal._

The next day, he became a Soul Reaper, and he had blood on his cheek. _Are you turned away from me because you're crying?_ She wondered, following the small boy. _Gin, Gin, don't—)_

"How are we going to get past this?" Kira finally asked, unable to look at her. "He didn't even say good-bye."

"He didn't have to," she said. Now Kira looked at her, surprised once again by the depth of her emotions.

_(I'm going to become a Soul Reaper, _he said, turning his face away. She couldn't see his mouth; she wanted to know if he was smiling.)

"Everyday, since we children, he said good-bye."

_(I'll fix it so Rangiku never cries again.)_

She stood up now, and she looked so powerful against the sun in the window that Kira lost himself and felt tears rolling against his cheeks. This, this was the child that Gin pointed to on that day. He thought he could see her there, four feet tall and barefoot in the grass, the summertime girl with the snake's heart in her hands.

_Don't cry, he wouldn't want you to cry_, he thought vaguely, but she wasn't and he was.

She blinked, so bright, so beautiful.

_(Let me come with you—_but his sword was at her throat, and she could see, there, the tear in his eye, even as he went to Aizen, to cut him down. Even as he failed.)

"He's done the work for us, and now we just have to live, Kira. That is how we remember him." A very small smile tugged at her lips, but it was there.

(_If you were to turn into a snake tomorrow and begin devouring humans, and from the same mouth you devoured humans, you cried out to me 'I love you!', would I still be able to say 'I love you' the same way I do today?)_

The beautiful girl-woman-child closed her eyes. The smile remained. He was still there, in his pale skin and pale hair and indomitable spirit. Six foot two and handsome, her champion, her anti-hero.

_(Yes, yes, yes. I do._)

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_fin._

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A/N: i can't really ship matsumoto with anyone else after seeing gin die. i cried way too hard for that guy. although, i might write some shippy crack fics for her with other folks. also, are they from the rukongai? i couldn't remember. all well. please **review.**


	35. Chapter 35

A/N: one of many, many, many, many fics on those fateful seventeen months. more will follow.

A/N: and thank you WarriorofAnime, for the suggestion!

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: silence is deafening

**Summary**: And blindness is dying. –Ichigo/Rukia

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The first thing he noticed was the silence. The noise had died down. Perhaps that was the most surprising part; he'd gotten so used to the hum of spirits speaking, begging, wishing, laughing, screaming—but they weren't doing that now. Or, they were, but he just couldn't hear it.

Inoue, Ishida, and Chad could still hear it. They still frowned, ticked their ears to a particular direction, glanced at one another. They could still feel it.

The silence brought earaches.

He hadn't realized several things about losing his Spiritual Pressure. He hadn't realized the absolute silence that would come. He hadn't realized the blindness either.

_Where are you?_ He glanced at the tops of lamp poles, wondering if he would catch the black tip of a kimono, or hear the jingle of Sodenoshirayuki's bells. Nothing.

_Did you know that this would happen?_ He wanted to ask her. _Did you know that—?_

But of course she must have. And he must have missed the acceptance across her body, when he'd told them all in her home that he'd made peace with it. He could practically see that tiny smile now, hear her thoughts: _If you're okay with it, then—_

He'd continued to run into battles without a thought in his head, other than—_protect! I must protect them_! And this is what comes of it. What had she thought, watching him go? She had not tried to stop him, not really. Was that the acceptance?

But yes, this was the girl who had walked with eyes wide open into her sacrifice, who had threatened even her own zanpakuto with destruction if she proved a threat. Did she think this was the same? Did she think he knew?

Damn, if only he'd known—

What would he have done different? He'd told them, and himself, that he was prepared to lose all the powers he'd gained for the purpose of protecting them—to protect them. But the _silence_, the utter silence and darkness of the loss_—_had she known about that? Had she known, even then, that his eyes would forever pass over her, unseeing?

_You've always known more about me than I know myself—!_ He wanted to say. _I didn't know, I swear, I didn't know that I'd lose you!_

He felt like a child again; he wanted to ask his father how he'd dealt with it for so long, but then again, Dad had Mom, until—and he couldn't continue. He clenched his teeth and fists, like that would do something to remedy the situation. She'd faded before his eyes, and he'd thought he'd known, he thought he'd understood—but, but—

_Forgive me. Forgive me, I didn't know_. He spoke to the open air.

The silence was deafening.

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_fin._

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A/N: please **review**


	36. Chapter 36

A/N: another one.

A/N: title and lyrics from the song by this day & age

A/N: also, wow! a hundred reviews! thank you guys so much, i love you

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: second place victory

**Summary**: Seventeen months passed for them, too. –Sado, Orihime, Ishida

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_It's breathtaking to think of you__—_ _And to know that sometimes, the only way out is through__—_ _It's mind numbing to think of yesterday__—_ _I'd run to you now if I could, but things have changed__—_

/

The day after Rukia left, they all went to school, but Ichigo didn't. Orihime's face fell when she entered the classroom; Sado said nothing; Ishida took his seat quietly. Tatsuki looked at all of them and put her hands on her hips: "Where's Ichigo?"

"I'm sure he'll be here today," Orihime smiled brightly, then proceeded to distract her friend. "How was your weekend, Tatsuki-chan?"

He did not show up, as they all knew he wouldn't. They left school together that day, their feet dragging along the roadside, wondering what the best thing would be for Ichigo, as well as themselves.

"We can still see," Orihime murmured wonderingly.

"We'll still hunt Hollows without him," Ishida said calmly, pushing up his glasses. "I am still a Quincy, even if Ichigo is no longer a Soul Reaper."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "But, Ishida-kun, aren't you sad?"

"What's there to be sad about?" He stopped walking, and they both turned to look at his face. They could not see his eyes for the glare of the fading sun on his glasses. "This is what we want. Peace." He turned and started in the other direction, toward his home. "See you," he called absently.

"What about you, Sado-kun?" Orihime asked quietly.

The tall boy beside her was silent for a little while as they walked together. Finally, "I want to be stronger." _Even without Ichigo. No, that's not quite right—_

"For Kurosaki-kun," she said immediately. The girl looked up with a smile that did not betray her sadness for her friend. "Let's do it together. We'll be the fighters from now on, so he doesn't have to."

/

Ishida confronted his father. Ryuuken, sitting at his desk with a mountain of papers, did not look up. "What do you want?"

"I want you to teach me more about the Quincy powers."

He still did not look up. "Oh really? I don't care about what you want."

"I want to be stronger."

"Because that Substitute Soul Reaper lost his powers? So you can clean up after him?" He continued shuffling papers.

"No." The solid word made his father look up. "Because I also want to protect."

/

Orihime could not deny the relief when she saw Ichigo return to school. "Kurosaki-kun!" she called. "I'm glad to see you back again!"

They had lunch together, as always, all of her friends. She watched his smile levelly; it did not quite reach his eyes.

_Kurosaki-kun, this is what you wanted, right?_ She did not know, she realized; she did not know at all what he wanted.

/

They all got part-time jobs; it seemed the natural order of things. After all that fighting, it seemed rejuvenating to finally be making some money. Orihime threw all of her bouncing, earnest energy into several odd jobs; she waited tables, served coffee, even worked at a pet shop at one point. She counted her pennies; she prayed for fulfillment in things that she could not buy. She bowed and smiled to her brother's picture everyday.

Out of the blue, she bought each of her friends a gift.

For Tatsuki, a ribbon for the hair she had finally decided to grow out. "You'll look so beautiful, this red really suits you!" And the girl flushed prettily.

For Sado-kun, a new chain because she'd noticed that the one his grandfather had given him was falling apart from wear and tear. "I know it's not exactly the same, but I would hate to see you lose that pendant, Sado-kun." He thanked her everyday for a week.

For Ishida-kun, a bolt of the most beautiful white cloth she'd ever seen. "For your Quincy suits," she smiled, and he could have kissed her full on the mouth for it (but he didn't, out of propriety, of course).

For Kurosaki-kun, a book of poetry. "You were the hardest to buy for, but I always see you reading." She scratched the back of her head, and the boy smiled at her with the kind of smile that reminded her how handsome he was. It still did not reach his eyes, but she hardly noticed.

/

It was the hardest for Sado; watching Ichigo empty-handed day in and day out made it harder for him to go to school. He could still feel the Spiritual Energy pulsing through his strong arms; he could still see Hollows and spirits; he remained unchanged, he remained the stronger one—yet, somehow, Ichigo had left him behind again. As if he'd stepped away from the light, and Sado found himself groping around in the dark.

This was loneliness, he realized. He hadn't felt this way since he was a child, running around the streets and getting into fistfights.

/

Ishida had nightmares. He kept seeing a head of orange hair shivering in the darkness, a darkness where only moonlight through iron bars shone through, and green eyes and dark powers wrapped their hands around her neck, till she was crying silently—she did not want to ask for help, she was too strong, she'd come here to protect—!

_Inoue—!_ He cried her name, reached for her across the void.

_Kurosaki-kun, help me—!_ She answered, before the light blinded him, and he woke up.

/

He took a long walk in the snow before heading for Inoue's apartment for the Christmas party; after months of nightmares, he wasn't sure how to face her anymore. At school, he was quiet as ever, and he avoided her. The dreams had escalated from the hair in the dark to nails raking her skin to her blood on his hands, in his eyes, in his hair. Ishida had noticed that she reached for his elbow a couple of times at school, which he brushed off; he did not notice the sad confusion that overtook her expression after.

"Merry Christmas, Ishida-kun!" she greeted at the door, and he took one long look at her.

"What are you supposed to be?" he asked in confusion.

She was wearing something green and red, for sure, something like berries? Was she a fruitcake? She waved the little white gloves on her hands and pouted.

"I'm a mistletoe!" she cried. "But I'm a possessed anime version of a mistletoe," she added creepily, making spiritual motions with her hands.

He threw his head back and laughed. They all stared, a little awed and frightened—"What the hell's wrong with you?" Ichigo exclaimed.

"Nothing, you imbecile," he answered good-naturedly before stepping inside. He stopped having nightmares after that.

/

Sado dropped out of school.

"Should we be worried?" a very worried Orihime asked Ishida one day, walking home. They did that more these days; he didn't mind.

"Sado's got his own reasons for doing things," he said vaguely. "When he wants to talk, he'll talk."

"But…" Orihime fidgeted with her hands.

"I know." He closed his eyes for a moment before looking at her. "Kurosaki has not noticed."

Her eyes were far away for a moment. "He hasn't been himself." A pause. "He hasn't noticed a lot of things."

He nodded. _Like how patient you are. Like how kind you are. Like how badly you want his attention_. Then Ishida shook his head mentally at the fool.

He reached forward, took her shoulder in his grip for a moment. "Sado will be fine."

She bit her lip. "And Kurosaki-kun?"

The boy wanted to kill _Kurosaki-kun_ with his bare hands—but only for a brief moment, before self-control took over again. "Kurosaki too."

/

Orihime started leaving bread for Sado at his apartment. When the boy returned home at night and found the gift at his door, his hands shook a little when he tried to open the door. It usually took a few tries.

He sat alone in his apartment, eating the bread and thinking, running his hands over his memories, up and down his arms. He started talking. Talking, talking, talking—endlessly, as if he were spilling his entire self out into the open air. He realized, after several hours of this, that he was praying. Who was he praying to? Did he hope some wayward Soul Reaper would hear at his window and carry his wishes to Soul Society—there to fix everything?

He shook his head. _I have to get stronger_, he decided after all this. It always seemed to circle around to strength. His grandfather taught him about spiritual strength—not Spiritual Pressure, no, not the stuff that Soul Reapers use to enhance their physical powers—but about how the soul needs time. Time to heal, time to rejoice, time to reflect, time to take pride.

He looked at his hands, so big and strong. _This is my pride._

_/_

They all bumped into each other one Sunday morning, taking a stroll. Orihime was on her way to the grocery store; Ishida was returning from a Hollow hunt; Sado had been training.

She blinked at the two of them, her friends, her heart. "Hello," she smiled. She'd begun to worry again about Ichigo.

Ishida tilted his head down to her. "Inoue," he nodded in greeting. He'd felt strange Spiritual Pressures escalating in the area.

Sado raised his hand to them. He'd just come from Ginjo's hideout.

_When will I see you again?_ She wanted to ask Sado, but she chose not to.

_Do you still love him?_ Ishida wanted to blurt suddenly, but he looked away.

"Are you satisfied with the way things are?" Sado murmured, the only one of them to speak.

They both stared, unable to answer.

/

The next time they were all together again, they were investigating Tsukishima without Ichigo.

_We're definitely stronger now_, they thought. _It's been seventeen months, and we've grown._

_._

_._

_._

_fin._

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A/N: weird? i just haven't seen anyone address what those months were like for Ichigo's friends. **review?**


	37. Chapter 37

A/N: the number seventeen is going to make me cry for weeks.

A/N: literally wrote this because i have ridiculous insomnia, and it makes me angsty.

* * *

**Drabble collection: **when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: cracked eyelids

**Summary**: It even hurts to sleep. –Ichigo/Rukia

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It even hurts to sleep—

Because he's rolling from side to side, first lying on his right and then his left, feeling the muscles ache, and when he moves suddenly, trying to finally get comfortable, something snaps somewhere in his body, and he's not sure if it's a shoulder, an elbow, or a string tying his entire self together.

The bed feels big and empty.

Not that she'd shared it much in the first place; only by accident when afternoon naps were unavoidable, or when he emerged from a shower or from his studies to find her asleep against his pillow, a manga over her face. She was very small in the center of his bed, and he couldn't exactly find a place in it with her, so he slept in his chair a couple of times, leaning over the edge of his mattress. But when he woke, he woke in his bed, as naturally as ever, and she was there too, on the other side so he had some room. She feels correct in his bed, and without the possibility of her invading his sheets, now it feels so very incorrect.

The bags accumulate under his eyes, but he retains a light that his friends don't understand.

"When's the last time you slept?" Ishida asks quietly, pushing up his glasses.

Ichigo does not blink. "A week ago."

"You need your rest," Chad offers.

He does not ask, _For what?_

It's harder and harder to believe. Inoue wants to see him smile; she asks how he is, but she does not comment on his worn face. But he tells her, "please, don't force it for me," as he passes her in the hallway.

He goes through the motions of sleeping and waking, and only once in a while does he actually succeed.

But he always wakes with a start, a mere few hours later, with her name on his lips. _Rukia—_

And it hurts, it hurts down to the tips of his toes, it hurts like every single wound he's ever obtained, all over again, all over his body. Distinctly absent are the playful bumps and bruises she gave him; those he cannot feel at all. He wants to talk to someone, he wants to talk to Zangetsu—he feels like he would understand. But he has no sword, not anymore.

And the bed is the same.

This is the same bed where she sat, slept, lazed, and read. This is that room, there is the closet. He can picture her in every corner of this space, and it hurts, because that's all he sees when he opens or closes his eyes.

It hurts to sleep. He lies awake and watches her dance all over his room, Shirayuki in her hand.

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_fin._

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A/N: oh man someone hold me :( and **review**


	38. Chapter 38

A/N: introspective rukia on those seventeen months. (can you sense that that episode totally ruined me?)

A/N: italicized words at the beginning from emily bronte

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: our hearts get taller

**Summary**: Time was supposed to be nothing, for a Shinigami. But she counted those seventeen months like grains of sand between her fingers. –Ichigo/Rukia

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_"Whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same."_

Time was supposed to be nothing, for a Shinigami. But she counted those seventeen months like grains of sand between her fingers.

1.

She knew the exact moment he'd become blind to her. She felt it, saw the way his eyelids lowered just so, as if she'd walked away, behind a door. But she was standing right there.

_Ichigo_, she said, to test it. But he did not hear. His friends were behind her; they heard. He did not.

She turned, cast them a smile because—someone needed to see that she was okay with this, someone needed to tell him if he asked that everything was fine! and she left.

2.

The second month was the hardest. She'd returned to the Seireitei, helped them rebuild after Aizen's defeat, helped her brother rebuild their mansion, bowed humbly to her Captain. She walked alongside Renji in the streets again, just as she had for over a hundred years. She had never gone so long without seeing him before, she realized one day, glancing at the sky.

_How long has it been, since Aizen's defeat_? She asked her Captain, and he looked surprised.

_About two months_, he said softly, carefully, as if treading water.

3.

She began to have dreams.

Dreams of his chest splayed open before her, he lying on his back, writhing in pain, scars like half-moons littering his skin; dreams of his hair, long, short, wild, even black and fierce in the wind; dreams of his eyes that had looked so strangely light right at the last, as if apologizing. He opened his mouth to speak to her, but she couldn't hear.

_Don't you dare apologize, you idiot_, she ground out.

She woke up a lot in the middle of the night, uncomfortable in her fine Kuchiki household bedroom. She was sweating everywhere, filthy.

_It's my fault. But I can't seem to regret it._

4.

She trained, just as she always had. She parried, thrust, dodged, spoke to Sodenoshirayuki. She was up early in the mornings, before even the sun was up, dressed and in the training grounds by dawn. She panted and crawled on the ground when she was tired. If she failed to win a match, she did not bow her head—she came again.

_Rukia_, her zanpakuto murmured, her hair drifting all about her, so beautiful, so soft. Rukia tipped her head back and closed her eyes. _Don't push yourself too hard._

_Why not?_ She asked. She stood up. _Again._

5.

She went for a walk with her brother during the fifth month sometime, around the grounds of the mansion. She strode with her arms tucked into her sleeves at his side, feeling more at peace than she had in weeks. There was something about him, something that put her fears to rest. Was it his absolute strength, the reserve she once took as coldness? She didn't know now, but she desperately needed it.

_Rukia_, he said, looking at her. _Have you been back?_

They both stopped walking. She widened her eyes, wondering how much he'd picked up. Was she surprised, or relieved, that someone had asked?

_I haven't_, she choked.

He blinked, closed his eyes and turned away. She remembered, now, like an ache in her gut, that he'd lost his wife, so very young. When he looked at her again, he looked with empathy.

_You should go some time._

6.

She took his advice in the sixth month. She approached Karakura Town with all the gravity that he must have approached Hisana's grave, and she deliberately did not go to certain places where she knew she would find him.

She first visited his mother's tombstone, where she knew he only went once a year. Standing there, she asked the beautiful woman she'd seen in a poster for help. She closed her eyes. _Because you know him best._

She went to the school, after hours, and wandered the halls. She pretended they were all in class still, and she took a seat as if she were with them. She walked down the street to the grocery store, down the street to Urahara's Shop, and then finally wandered back to his house.

It was about three in the morning, so she knew he could not be awake. She stood on a lamppost across the street, staring at the windows that were too dark to reveal anything, and sighed, glad they did not. She glanced down at the street, where it had started that night, with a sword in his heart.

Indeed, it did feel like visiting the grave of a loved one. She bowed reverently toward the house before taking her leave.

7-12.

After visiting Karakura Town, she felt the peace coming back into her bones. It was something like when she'd left to die in Soul Society, when she'd tried to protect him and the stubborn brat had come after her. She began to look at it that way. She smiled at Renji again, even teased him. Her Captain admired her, her brother looked at her without so much _something_ in his eyes. It was after the year mark that she'd cut her hair.

_Why are you doing this to your lovely hair?_ Matsumoto had asked, blinking. She'd started to see Toshiro and Matsumoto more often; along with herself and Renji, they had spent the most time in the Living World, and it had brought them together.

She rolled her shoulders and smiled. _It'll be nice, not to have to brush so much hair._

_Well, okay,_ the beautiful Lieutenant said, leaning forward with the scissors. Snip. Snip. Snip. She sighed; she really hoped she looked very different.

13.

After thirteen months and a haircut, Captain Ukitake formally asked her to be his Lieutenant. He bowed his handsome head before her and smiled softly. _Well, Kuchiki?_

She flushed and pressed herself into the ground humbly, embarrassed. _But, Captain, I couldn't possibly—I'm not fit—_

_You've been fit for a long time now_, he interrupted gently. _It's time to take your place, Kuchiki._

She showed her brother the badge with great pride, and he gave her a soft smile and ruffled her hair. It was possibly the first time he'd done that. _Well done, Rukia_, he praised, and she felt her face flaming with awe of him all over again.

To Renji she'd gloated happily, and they all went for drinks. Sitting at the table that night, she laughed and joked and played stupid games with her new badge tucked demurely into her gi.

_Wait till I tell Ichigo! That'll show him!_ She'd blurted at one point, too far gone to realize her mistake until everyone at the table looked at her with wary eyes. She crawled to the back of the bar and threw up.

14.

She missed her own birthday.

She happened upon her birthday party at the Kuchiki mansion that night, returning from her Lieutenant duties for the day. Everyone was there, dressed their best, with flowers and food and music and expensive, aristocratic things—and here she was, in her uniform.

_S-sorry, everyone!_ She cried. _And thank you, of course!_

Byakuya's eyes darkened a bit, but he did not comment. _Happy birthday, Rukia_, he told her, steering her toward the party despite her protests. _Don't worry about your clothes, just host your party._

_How could you forget your own birthday?_ Renji asked. _You usually look forward to this like some dumb kid,_ he grinned.

_I don't know_, she shook her head. _I really don't know._

No one missed the way her eyes could not seem to focus on any one of their faces; it was as if she was looking for someone. _That's silly_, she berated herself._ There's no way._

The cake was strawberry; it was her new favorite.

15.

But she knew the exact moment that something was wrong, somehow. It was the sudden pound in the center of her soul, sharper even than when Aizen had extracted the Hogyoku, or when Grimmjow had shoved a hand through her gut. She was with her Captain, doing paperwork, when she bent over and heaved, sweated, cursed. Her hands gripped the front of her uniform, trembling.

_Kuchiki?_ Ukitake gasped, reaching to help her, but she held out a hand.

_No, I—it's just_, she couldn't speak. It was as if her very soul was shaking. Sodenoshirayuki raised her head to her master.

_Rukia_, she started—

_I know!_ Rukia gasped out loud_. Just, give me a moment. I know_. She looked at Ukitake. _Please, send me to Karakura Town. Something's wrong._

_Is that okay?_ He asked, more concerned for her than for the humans at the moment.

_There's no one else fit for this_,_ Captain._

16.

And when they came to her, saying that the enemy was going to try to convert him, she fought them tooth and nail.

_He's not that kind of man!_ She shrieked. _Don't you remember?_

_What if he's changed, Rukia?_ They asked, standing around her. Staring, with big eyes. _It's been over a year now._

She gripped her fists and stood fast. _He's never going to change. I would bet my life on that._

She wasn't quite sure what looks they gave her; some were shaking their heads, others were staring in disbelief at her dumbness, at her faith. Her brother's expression did not change. Renji sighed.

_Then let's take steps to make sure we do this right_, came a voice, and it was her Captain. _Call Urahara._

17.

There he was, her unbearably idiotic and unbearably handsome champion, standing in the center of a group of people as always, but—but, yes, just as she had known, she'd known it all the way down to her roots, something was wrong, horribly wrong—he was—he was—

Crying?

She'd never seen him cry, and it made her _angry_.

_Sodenoshirayuki,_ she murmured, and her beautiful zanpakuto gleamed in the light—_I know._

Bu it was not only Rukia's powers going to him now, it was all of the Seireitei, and it was with no small rage that she plunged forward with both hands.

The sword sang as it ran him through, and she knew the exact moment he could see her again. Eyes wide and terrified and awed all at once, almost taking her in in one huge gulp—he looked ridiculous. She smirked, as if these months had been nothing, as if she really were a cold immortal with time dancing in her hands.

_Rukia, _her name sounded like desperation on his lips.

_Have the last seventeen months made you weaker, or stronger?_ she wondered, just before he disappeared in a flurry of power. When he reappeared, looking so tall—he was seventeen now, wow—she said:

_How could you cry? You're better than that__—_! And that rage that anything, anything should make him cry surged through her.

_Don't you let them touch you—!_ She could have throttled him.

_Show them, Ichigo—!_ She cried, falling back into their routine.

_Show them all we've been through—!_

Seventeen months, and more.

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_fin._

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A/N: i got a lil lazy/stumped in the middle. hope it wasn't too noticeable. **please review!**


	39. Chapter 39

A/N: i needed something fluffy so bad after the last several uploads. lordy. and there's like zero editing here. i literally wrote this in fifteen minutes because i needed something to do besides homework :x

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: system of alliances

**Summary**: Byakuya and Karin have a lot in common. –Ichigo/Rukia, Karin, Byakuya CRACK FLUFF THING

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.

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"We have a list of demands," Byakuya coolly stated to the pair sitting before him.

Ichigo and Rukia were perched on their knees in the Kuchiki mansion, hands folded neatly in their laps awaiting further instructions. Or, at least, she was, looking deferential as always to her elder brother and all his glory. Ichigo, however, couldn't help but bluster,

"Yeah whatever, but what is _Karin_ doing here?!" And he pointed idiotically at his little sister, seated at Byakuya's side.

"Shut up, Ichigo," she growled at him good-naturedly, crossing her arms. A shit-eating grin tugged at her little-girl's mouth.  
"As Kuchiki said, we have a list of demands."

"You—both?" Ichigo still didn't get it.

Byakuya sighed a little at the boy's idiocy, then informed him: "Your sister and I have met and discussed this matter together several times over the last several months, that we may be prepared for this moment."

"Elder brother!" Rukia gasped. "You knew that we'd—"

"Oh please, Rukia," Karin interjected, not unkindly. "You sleep in Ichigo's room." Her eyes met her brother's but she was speaking to the girl. "I'm quite old enough to know what that means."

The couple before them both turned bright variations of pink-red, looking quite adorable, if Kyoraku had been there to say so. But the present company paid them no heed in their embarrassment.

Byakuya coughed before speaking. "As I said, we have a list of demands, if this situation is to remain—"

"Sexual," Karin sated bluntly, much to her brother's dismay. Then she struck one finger in the air. "First, no sex in our father's house."

"Nor in mine," Byakuya added casually.

"That would be disgusting," the little girl added, with a grimace.

"Second, you must report to both households for major holidays. Particularly New Years." Here the head of the Kuchiki eyed his sister. "You are still to perform the Celebration Dance, as your sister performed it before you."

"And you, Ichigo, are to spend that day with your sisters. Yuzu would never forgive you if you forgot us on New Years."

Then the strawberry splayed open his hands in confusion. "But what if Rukia and I want to do something together—?"

"Tough," both siblings stated.

"We all know you'll have sexy-time at some point that night anyway. Make that your time together." Karin waved it off with a vague motion of her hand. "Also, when it comes time to have the wedding, Yuzu should be a bridesmaid—"

"You can't go deciding who's going to be Rukia's bridesmaids, Karin," Ichigo argued. "Those are reserved for her friends and family—"

"—Agreed," Rukia returned, hitting him over the head with a tiny fist. She smiled at the girl before her. "I would be honored to have you as a bridesmaid as well, Karin."

The sister flushed a little at the sweetness in Rukia's smile, and vaguely thought how nice it would be, before coughing embarrassedly. "Yes, well, we'll see about that," she murmured.

"The wedding—and there will be a wedding," Byakuya went on, his scowl aimed squarely at Ichigo, "will be here, at the Kuchiki mansion, just as every wedding in this family has been before."

"What if we want to have it in Karakura?" Rukia asked now, blinking. Ichigo, at her side, glanced at her in question. "Karakura would be easier, so that we can have Ichigo's family and friends there, too." She looked so thoughtful and generous about that, Ichigo could have kissed her right in front of their siblings—but Byakuya would have made sure he never kissed her again.

"Hmm," the said brother started, "perhaps two ceremonies should be in order. We'll decide later. That is an acceptable objection, Rukia." She glowed under her brother's praise, and Ichigo fought back the urge to be jealous.

"Last," Karin stated firmly, "you have to ask Mom's permission."

"And Hisana's," Byakuya added.

The couple stared back, a little startled by the seriousness, but then Ichigo nodded, and he lowered his head to the floor in a formal bow. "Yes, I will. And I'd also like to ask you, Byakuya, if I may."

The Soul Reaper, a little surprised by the action (though he dared not show it), blinked and was silent for a moment. Ichigo did not move from his place on the ground, and Rukia stared at the back of his neck, her eyes wide and a little glassy. She looked at Karin, who was grinning back at her, as if to say, _You better take care of my brother, after all this shit_. And Rukia, blinking, smiled at the younger sister, full of something pink and warm that she could not name.

Byakuya finally nodded his head curtly. "If you adhere to our demands, it shall be so."

It was only after the couple left, and Karin and Byakuya were sitting in the mansion together, that he added: "Your fool of a brother got me."

Karin flashed him a mischievous grin. "Yeah, I told you. And we'll see just how worthy Little Miss Noble is of my fool brother."

Byakuya eyed her again, under new lenses: this small girl with Isshin's face and Ichigo's fierocity, cloaked in apathy and hiding a softness that he could only barely see.

"Rukia will make him a fine wife." He did not add, _He'd better make her a fine husband or I will kill him myself_—but Karin understood, and she laughed in a kind of familial rivalry.

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_fin._

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A/N: d'aww hugss & **reviews**?


	40. Chapter 40

A/N: i sink to new lows of weird and perversion. i don't know. so much crack, so little time.

A/N: also, i am like, what, the laziest capitalizer in the world? i am so sorry if this pisses you off, i just don't think about it lol

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: prostitution is no laughing matter

**Summary**: Soul Society has an auction. –CRACK

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"—in short, we are out of funds," Captain Yamamoto announced to his Captains with a sigh. "We need to generate funds so we can afford to fix some more of the damage around the barracks, particularly Squad Eleven barracks." He raised his staff and thudded it loudly for emphasis. "Any ideas for fundraising?"

"I have an idea, Head Captain," came a voice from the window; all heads turned to see Lieutenant Nanao clutching the window frame, and poking her head in with a conspiratorial glint in her glasses' frame.

"Nanao, my sweet, as much as I adore you, you can't keep doing that," Captain Kyoraku sighed with a chuckle.

"Understood, sir," she answered, then turned back to the Head Captain. "Would you like to hear my idea?"

The Head Captain quirked an eyebrow. "Please inform us."

/ / /

"Welcome to Soul Society's first ever auction!" cried the voice of one very excited Lieutenant Nanao. "We'll parade before you all Soul Society's most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes, and you'll get the opportunity to bid for their company in a dance this evening!"

Applause from the Gotei Thirteen roared toward Nanao, from where she stood atop a stage erected for the event. Every Soul Reaper within this dimension was gathered there to ogle at their Captains, Lieutenants, and whoever else the Head Captain had ordered to participate. They were filled with wine (free of charge) and moonlight, and they were dressed their best: the ladies wore elegant dresses or kimono, and the men alternated between their usual uniform, and suit and ties. Music drifted on the air, and a dance floor was prepared for the crowds and their prizes for the moment they were won.

"Who's ready?" Nanao cheered them on, one fist in the air. The crowds answered in kind, with a roar to rival the mightiest lion in the land.

"First up is Squad Two's former Captain, Yoruichi Shihoin! A Princess, a former Captain, and sexy as hell, right, fellas?"

Onto the stage strode the woman herself, wearing an orange, slim-fitting gown that exploited every curve _just so very right_. She winked and gave the crowds a thumbs-up, effectively securing for herself the hearts of too many young men in the arena.

"Lady Yoruichi!" cried one current Squad Two Captain, from her front-row place, and she shot her hand up in the air. "CHARGE ME WHATEVER YOU WANT FOR THIS DANCE!" she added, and Nanao proceeded to write an exorbitant figure before letting Yoruichi go.

"Next is Squad Three's Lieutenant, Kira Izuru. Look at those blonde tresses, the sadness in his eyes! Doesn't it just make you want to take care of him, ladies?"

Nanao shouted over the crowds, gesturing wildly to the man, staring nervously out from his place on stage. He touched his blonde hair self-consciously and attempted a smile. Female hands shot up in the air; the screaming reached past the acceptable decibel limit. They would definitely have a noise complaint in the morning.

"And now we have Squad Six's own Captain Byakuya Kuchiki, the esteemed head of the Kuchiki family!"

Byakuya stood silently frowning on the stage, his eyes scanning the crowds, looking exceedingly calm despite the wild circumstances. He bowed formally to the crowd, simply and elegantly. Panties dropped for miles.

"Squad Six's Lieutenant Renji Abarai, everyone!"

For the occasion, Nanao had ordered him to wear his hair down and to arrive without his shirt; he stood with red cheeks in his tattoos and his exotic hair, waving sheepishly at the women flocking to touch him. When one woman threw herself on stage to grasp his foot, he shook her off and wailed at Nanao—"_What the hell is with these women?_!"

—To which merciless Nanao cried, "_SOLD_."

"Captain Shunsui Kyroaku, of Squad Eight, ladies!"

The man stepped onto the stage in his flambouyant coat and tipped his hat to the women before him, flashing a lazy but highly effective smile. He turned to his lieutenant.

"Aw, Nanao, you're not even going to bid for me? I'm disappointed," he pouted, too handsome to discourage his fans.

She hesitated a moment, meeting his eyes with her own pink blush.

"He's a fool and an idiot, ladies," Nanao blurted flatly into the microphone, "don't bid for him, or _you'll regret it,"_ she went on with a wild darkness in her eyes. Then the entire room, in stunned silence, did not answer. She quickly wrote herself a small sum on her paper and the Captain stepped down with a mischievous grin.

"Next!" Nanao cried. "We have Squad Nine's Lieutenant Shuhei Hisagi! He's sporting his usual sleeveless gi, displaying the power of his arms that have managed to tame his terrifying zanpakuto, Kazeshini! And don't mind his scars, they're a little scary, but they're also evidence of his bravery and mastery in battle!"

Hisagi stood stiffly before the women, fingering his sword at his hip and trying to look casual. Someone fainted when he met her eye.

"Squad Ten's prodigy of a Captain is next, Toshiro Hitsugaya!"

Nanao continued, gesturing to the sour-looking youth arriving on the stage; at the sight of him, half of the women in the crowd passed out from nosebleeds. He glared down with his eyes that were long-lashed and _just the most beautiful shade of green, how did he do that?—_and Hinamori proceeded to bid for him and win. ("Please, please win me tonight," he begged her earlier, "I'll pay you back whatever I owe you after.")

"Squad Ten's Lieutenant Rangiku Matsumoto—I'm sure you guys don't need an introduction for her!"

Nanao grinned. Beautiful Matsumoto strolled onto the stage, rocking her hips just as Nanao had asked her to, and she flipped her hair with a wink.

"Who wants me?" she asked, both palms up.

Half of the Gotei Thirteen's men passed out from nosebleeds, and the other half battled in fierce bidding for the next thirty minutes.

When all was set and done, Nanao continued, "We also have a treat for you ladies tonight! The former Squad Twelve Captain, Urahara Kisuke—brilliant, blonde, and exiled! A dangerous and seductive combination, don't you think, ladies?"

The man strode forward in his typical open gi, flashing the women a view of his chiseled chest—and he even abandoned the ever-present hat for the evening, instead allowing the women the added view of his handsome face and sheepish smile.

Any panty already not dropped by Byakuya earlier certainly thudded to the ground when he smiled.

"We've also got the Princess of the Rukongai-turned-Kuchiki noble for you men tonight—Rukia Kuchiki, Squad Thirteen's Lieutenant! See how lovely she is in the moonlight tonight, just like the _yuki onna_ of the fables!"

Rukia came forward and smiled, waving her delicate hand to the crowds. Nanao had instructed her to wear a white kimono instead of her uniform; she came off just as ethereal as she'd hoped. The men gaped like fools before her, and one leaped forward with tears in his big goofy face.

"My daughter, how beautiful you are—let's have a daddy-daughter dance!" Isshin cried, slamming himself onto the stage.

Rukia laughed and let him lead her away; the puzzled onlookers glanced at one another and shrugged. "Still hot as hell," they said to one another.

"Last but certainly not least, we have the Substitute Soul Reaper, Ichigo Kurosaki, here before you by the express demand of the Shinigami Women's Association. Look at that youth and vitality—makes me wish I were still alive!"

Ichigo strode forward in his uniform and the cape Yoruichi had loaned him to save Rukia, looking the part of the rugged prince. He was hit by a sound wave so intense it almost knocked him clean off of his feet. Women hollered and raced forward as if to rush the stage, and he backed away, hollering like Renji had done, "_What the hell, I was told there would be food?!—_"

The next second, he was under a pile of sweaty, horny women.

/ / /

"It appears we have met our fundraising goal," the Head Captain announced the next day in a meeting.

The participants stood there, a little worse for wear:

Yoruichi was standing under the heavy gaze of her worshipper Soi Fong;

Kira's hair was in disarray, and he was grimacing more than ever;

Byakuya was the most normal, but he did have a twitch in one eye;

Renji was missing a shoe, his headband, and he had lipstick stains all over every one of his tattoos;

Kyoraku had a fat lip, presumably from making a move on Nanao that he shouldn't have;

Hisagi had only half of his already modified gi, the rest being ripped off forcibly;

Hitsugaya smelled suspiciously of watermelon;

Matsumoto was still hungover and flirtatious and sloppily-dressed;

Urahara was wearing his hat again, covering his face in darkness;

Rukia's hair was pulled back in two childlike pigtails that _Daddy_ had insisted upon;

Ichigo was whining, loudly, that he was still _starving_.

Nanao stood at attention, as correct and orderly as ever, and she nodded in victory to her Head Captain. "Yes, sir, we have," she said cheerfully. "I am pleased with the results, if I may say so."

Yamamoto nodded. "Indeed. We should do this again next year."

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_fin._

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A/N: seriously, what even is this? well, as always, i appreciate **reviews**


	41. Chapter 41

A/N: set some time after Ichigo gets his powers back. i promise i'll write something other than ichiruki soon, this is just what my feels have demanded XD

A/N: lyrics from "flapper girl" by the lumineers

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: Flapper Girl

**Summary**: On Rukia's new hair. –Ichigo/Rukia

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_Cut off all of your hair_

_Did you flinch, did you care?_

_Did he look, did he stop and stare_

_At your brand new hair?_

He fingered the ends of her hair, feeling the crisp, neat strands one by one. She was sitting a little in front of him, on the hill by the river, her hands between her outstretched legs in the grass. Her eyes were trained on the water. There were no words.

When was the last time they'd done this? He couldn't remember ever just _sitting_ with her, and it startled him.

"You cut your hair."

"You're astute today." She wasn't looking at him; he didn't stop touching her.

"Why?"

"I needed something different."

"Really? Huh." He didn't sound thoughtful at all, but he was wondering _when was the last time you cut your hair?_ He wouldn't let himself think of that. "You look smaller, with it like this."

"I'm average height, thank you," she muttered testily.

He chuckled, "Yeah right."

This was comfortable new territory, somehow, and he couldn't think of a better way to just be with her, after everything—_everything has happened_. Everything possible has happened to them, somehow, in the span of just a few months. More than seventeen months, really; a drop in an ocean of time for her, and an excruciatingly long time for him. It's been less than two years that they've been acquainted, but still—_everything is here_.

His hands fell away from her neck.

"Should I grow mine out?" he asked absently.

"What? So you can look even more like a thug? No way," she retorted.

"What if I need something different?" he argued without much feeling.

She shook her head, spraying her short crop of dark hair everywhere. He watched, mesmerized.

"Nope, too bad. You should have short hair."

"That's hardly fair; I didn't stop you from cutting yours," he murmured sourly, leaning back a little.

Now she turned over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his. Ichigo blinked at her a little; she was the same Rukia, with the same set of eyes that made something grow tight and hot in his chest, the same silly bang resting between those eyes, and now, her hair was shorter, more pixie-like. She was back, now—and she was more terrible and magical than ever before.

"Do you like it, though?" she asked now, the hint of a smile on her pretty lips.

Her boy in the grass smiled back at her, in a rare moment of transparency. "I can get used to it, if you're around enough."

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_fin._

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A/N: please **review**


	42. Chapter 42

A/N: i miss renji, i need to do more with him

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: sarcasm is jealousy's ugly cousin

**Summary**: "I mean, how can you not love him? He's ferociously attractive." "Shut your damn mouth." –Ichigo/Rukia/Renji

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Ichigo didn't like to admit it, but yeah, he got pretty jealous over the damned dark-haired midget Soul Reaper noble girl. There were a couple of times he'd seen Renji appear at her side, place a hand on her shoulder in comfort, or friendship, or whatever—times when Renji let down his hair and Rukia's eyes wandered over to his with a smile—times when they disappeared together into the Senkaimon, to go to their shared home of Soul Society.

He ground his teeth and snapped his pencils just thinking about it.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she snarled over her shoulder in class.

"Pay attention to the lecture," he'd growl back, not meeting her eyes.

But, naturally, she didn't let it go. She halted him from joining their friends at lunchtime, hands on her hips. "Talk, idiot."

"It's nothing," he said, trying to get around her—agh, she's so tiny, how could she take up so much of his breathing room?

"It's not."

His face colored, but only briefly—he decided to turn the tables on her. "You're in love with Renji, aren't you?" he asked now, with a grin.

Her eyes widened and her cheeks turned pink; she looked like a bunny caught by the snake. "W-what?"

Ichigo leaned away, not even trying to get around her now. He put his hands in his pockets and his grin was lazy. "I mean, how can you not? He's so—brave."

"Ichigo, what are you—"

"And those tattoos!" he threw his hands up in the air, mocking her. "And his _hair_."

"Where are you getting all this from, idiot?" she barked, backing away now, as if to flee.

"You love Renji," Ichigo taunted in a sing-song manner. "But how can you not? He's ferociously attractive. Just thinking about it gives me the shivers."

"Shut your damned mouth," she replied, her face still blushing. "I-I—"

"Still though, I wouldn't have thought he'd be your type." He shrugged now. "I guess that's what he gets for _saving_ you back in Soul Society." With a grin, he finally pushed past her and started towards the roof.

She stared up at him, all color lost from her face. Then, the minx, her face twisted into a smirk.

"You're _jealous!_" she cried up the stairs, running, laughing at him. "You're jealous of Renji!" She threw her head back now, the laughter bubbling out of her and shaking her whole little body. "You idiot!"

He glanced over his shoulder and scowled at her. "What do you mean?"

She skipped past him sweetly, looking exactly like the schoolgirl she was not. "Of course you should be jealous," she said, her face still smirking, "he's _ferociously attractive_."

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_fin._

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A/N: i dunno, lololol **review?**


	43. Chapter 43

A/N: oops another one, lololol tears tears

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**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: flowers on your grave

**Summary**: These are the consequences for power. –Isshin during the seventeen months

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"Hi honey."

Once a year he says these words, but he makes an exception today. Everything has changed so suddenly, and he returns to his honey's resting place like a pilgrim to the altar.

"Hi honey," he says again, this time with a sigh.

He does not allow himself to greet her this way at home, with a poster and his children staring on dubiously, or even when he dreams about her at night. Isshin sits across from her tombstone and offers a sheepish smile.

"I miss you. But I guess you know that."

He rolls the flowers around in his hands, tugs a little bit at his black tie.

"Yuzu is growing up to be very much like you. And she's a tough little girl. Always cooking and cleaning. Keeping her grades up." He chuckles. "And Karin is, of course, not amused." His grin widens. "They're beautiful, Masaki."

She's the only ghost he has never been able to see. He can feel, just barely, tugging at the edge of his vision, little sprites here and there, watching him. Saying to one another how they wish someone would come visit them too. The ghost of a child is crying. A dead old man leans on his cane. So Isshin imagines Masaki is sitting right across from him in her curls and her fair skin, with eyes filled to the brim with kindness.

_And Ichigo?_ He could practically hear her ask. _How is my son? _

"I'm sure you know all about Ichigo," he answers out loud. "He's doing his best." He lowers his head. "But I do wish he didn't have to so much."

He wrings his hands now, the flowers set to the side. "I'm sorry. This is still hard to do, after so many years." He swallows slowly. "I miss you. But I said that already."

After a few minutes, he pops his head back up, his smile returned. "Oh yes! We had a third daughter!" His voice lowers again, retains his serious edge. "She's a Soul Reaper, Masaki. In my mind, she's still here, but she's been gone for months now." He blinks knowingly. "I suppose you've seen her since then."

He leans forward, drawing his face toward his fists. "She and Ichigo…" he isn't sure how to finish it for a moment. "Oh, what the hell, your son's head over heels for her, and I suspect she's all for it too." He laughed. "Imagine that! Your son falling for a Soul Reaper. Reminds me of all the idiotic things I did when we were dating."

A sigh. "But she's gone. Oh, she'll be back," he adds after a moment. "I know it. But Ichigo's not taking it well. He thinks I have no clue, but I do." Isshin chuckles again, as if he is not talking about heartbreak. "My adorable idiot son."

It begins to rain, predictably. It rains on this day most years.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm still sorry."

She's looking at him now, her face serious. _Is that what you want to be? Sorry?_ His wife shakes her head.

"It's my fault. These are the consequences for power," he tells her. "Our children have inherited my darkness." He holds his hands out in front of him; they're big and dark and strong. "See these? They've killed. They've wielded zanpakuto."

_You sound like our son_, she sighs. _Sobbing because you could not—_

"I know," he interrupts quietly. "I know, but—I can't." He shakes his head, a wry smile in place. "Ichigo gets it from somewhere."

They are both quiet for a long time, unable to speak.

"She'll come back," Isshin finally says. "When she does—"

_You'll what?_ Her soft voice is especially cutting.

"I don't know," he says lamely.

Masaki sighs, beautiful as ever, even in his mind. She is so full and correct in his mind now, after all these years. She even wears her favorite sweater, a plum color.

_You'll stop being sorry. You'll just make up for it by helping your son_. Her orders do not sound like orders. They sound like the most logical sense. He could almost grab her up in his arms and swing her around, just as he did when they were young.

"I'm expecting Urahara any day now; something weird is going on." He blinks. "I'll help my son, Masaki."

Her answering smile rings back at him so beautiful, so thrilling, that he has to grip his fists like a silly youth. He is too old for this, too young to be so lonely. Then he remembers his son, staring at his plate at dinner, his son, glaring at his schoolwork and pressing the pencil so hard into the paper that it rips suddenly and then he stares at it, dazed. His power he does not understand; his loneliness even less. At least this much his father understands for him.

Isshin shakes his head again for his adorable idiot son. Their adorable idiot son.

"Honey, I miss you." His smile is charming, a little silly. He stands now, stretching a little bit, and he sets the flowers on her grave.

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_fin._

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A/N: i made up masaki's character a LOT, forgive me. please **review**


	44. Chapter 44

A/N: i love this pairing, but it proves very difficult for me to write. i hope this isn't too OOC?

* * *

**Drabble collection:** when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: If my Lady demands it

**Summary:** Urahara serves only Princesses. –Yoruichi/Urahara

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He likes to lie back against the floor and let her have her way with him. It is a rare thing, indeed; sometimes only once a year does she approach him and drag him to the nearest flat surface, there to shudder and gasp and claw and cry in his arms for hours. But when she does, he never resists her. He never approaches her first.

"Tell me, Kisuke," she says, toying with his blonde hair as she lies naked against him. "Have you had any women since you've been here?" Her eyes are teasing and golden, as if to say—_you better not have, but I want to hear all the gritty details_.

He feigns surprise at first. "But, Lady Yoruichi," he mocks Soi Fong good-naturedly, "how could I? I am a lowly shopkeeper."

"Ah, no backhanded compliments to yourself today? No, 'even if I am sexy and handsome, of course I wouldn't'?"

He bares his throat to her and closes his eyes, a soft smile on his chapped lips. "Of course not. I am, as always, your humble servant and friend."

Yoruichi says nothing about this, and she comes to him, several times over his century or so of exile, and she closes the door behind her, a secret message in her eyes: a cat on the prowl, a dark shadow firm and sweet under his teeth. She walks around his room stark naked in the moonlight or sunshine, whenever the mood strikes her, with all the grace of nobility her proud head signifies. He lays on the floor, smoking a pipe or sipping a drink, similarly nude, but his smile is a sheath.

"What?" she asks suddenly.

"Your hair is very long now," he murmurs, and she's not sure what he means by that.

"What?"

"It's been a long time, now, since we left Soul Society," Urahara sighs like an old man. "You ever miss it?"

"Of course not." She's looking directly at him, and her feral grin returns to her face. She falls to her knees, crawls to him, and he waits for her. When she lands herself in his lap, so brown and warm against him, she's serious again. "Over there, we couldn't do this."

He tries to pull her out of her gravity. "Do what, my Lady?" he asks, his eyes half-lidded, just the way he knows she likes them.

At his suggestion, she knows him exactly what he can do.

She's gone in the mornings. There is no dawn breaking on the lovers, asleep in each other's arms, no breakfast in bed, no shy glances or morning romps. She's gone, and she'll be gone for days, as per the usual. He never asks about it, he never demands. That is her claim to make upon him, and she does.

"But really, Kisuke, have you had any women?" she inquires again, kicking her ankles up in the air like a cat does its tail. She's under his bed sheets; he's leaning against the wall, letting his heart calm.

"I have not," he tells her, and she quirks an eyebrow.

"Really, why's that?"

The lazy smile on his face speaks volumes in itself, but she will not let it rest, and so he says: "I serve only Princesses."

Now she's really tickled, and she rolls over in his sheets, almost peeking her body out. She grins like a naughty youth. "Oh really? Pray tell, good sir, how many Princesses have you deflowered?"

He bows elaborately, as a noble would at court. "I'm afraid I don't kiss and tell, my Lady."

In a flash, she's out of his bed and kneeling before him, her eyes so bright against the dimness of the room. Yoruichi growls, and his skin shivers.

"What if your Princess demands it?"

"I should have to hand you my heart on a platter, should you demand it."

She grips his blonde hair in her hands, hovers over his lips. "I do demand it."

He lets her climb over his body and he lets her make a mess of his room—Yoruichi's hold on him is almost frightening. She's just so beautiful, and so real, and so vivid, a a dream that's come over from the other side and crawled into his bed. This is the girl he's known his entire life, this is the girl who followed him into exile—and she is a Princess.

"My Princess," he murmurs over and over, over and over, as he drops kisses over and over. "Mine."

"How many?" she pants in his arms—"_Kisuke_, how many?"

His smile is a slow burn. His lashes flutter over her cheeks. "Only one, only one."

And he has his way with her, now.

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_fin._

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A/N: sexy urahara is sexy. i appreciate** reviews**


	45. Chapter 45

A/N: YES I DO SHIP THEM NOW AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME HAHA XD

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title:** double vision

**Summary**: Sado and Tatsuki, down by the river. –Sado/Tatsuki

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"How long have you been standing there?" she barks, a little peeved at being watched.

Sado comes forward; she's sitting on the riverbank, knees drawn up, chin over her arms, glaring. She's been sitting like that for a while, and now the sun's going down.

"A while," he mumbles. "Something wrong?"

Tatsuki is not forgiving or kind today; she is irritated with Ichigo, and she is irritated with secrets. Even Inoue keeps secrets from her, now, and it's as if she's not even allowed to ask. And she's got a headache, and her joints are sore.

"Why do you care?"

He does not hesitate. "We are friends."

She whips around, her mouth a twist in her face. She is not beautiful, then—and he recalls that sometimes, yes, she is; she is very beautiful.

"Are we?" Her voice, it cuts.

Instead of answering, Sado moves closer and sits next to her in the grass. She watches him warily, testily, and still he says nothing; as always, he keeps his face unreadable, and they both wait for several long minutes. He sits exactly in the same pose she does. They both realize it at the same time.

"Trust Ichigo," he finally murmurs, his voice low and strong.

She hesitates, and he feels her doubt—he knows it so well himself. "How?"

Again, they are both silent for a long time. He holds out his hand to inspect it, and Tatsuki watches him watching his hand; she wonders what he sees there, in his dark skin and bony fingers. They look strong, his hands. She's sure, suddenly, that he is as fierce as the rumors once said—when had that changed?

"How did you know I was worried?" she asks now.

"You were quiet at lunch today," Sado says. "You're only quiet when you're sad. When you're angry, you're violent. When you're sad—" he stopped. She was looking at him with wide eyes.

_You noticed?_ They seemed to say.

"You're quiet," he finished lamely, lowering his dark, exotic eyes.

"Yes," she gasps, and winces at the sound. Something had made her throat thick and her tongue numb—how had this serious, quiet boy seen _so much_?

"We're friends."

He's looking at her now, and she almost cowers under the depth there. He'd seen so much about her, and yet she hadn't even once looked at him; she didn't know what he liked to eat for lunch, though she sat with him every single day, and she didn't know what he cared about, though he had called her a friend.

"You're very strong," Tatsuki tells him, and for some reason, her bland statement makes him flush. For some reason, hearing it from her shakes him a little; she's never seen El Directo, she doesn't know anything about anything! But still. She senses something about him, if only very vaguely.

"You are, too," he offers sincerely, and she looks back at the water, finally cowering under his stare.

But Tatsuki is no longer angry, or upset; instead, she is comforted. She is not alone. Though she is still as left out as ever, she has found something interesting here, someone who takes care to watch her face for sadness. This is something worth treasuring.

Tatsuki smiles. She is beautiful, again—Sado glances out of the corner of his eye.

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_fin._

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A/N:...and then they went off together and made beautiful babies. please **review** & gimme your baby name suggestions lololol


	46. Chapter 46

A/N: i love bastardizing kubo's characters, it's a sin

A/N: this is for krikanalo, thanks for your reviews!- here's some humor, i'm still thinking about that adventure genre, hmmmm

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: locker room talk

**Summary**: "Seriously, Byakuya, why is your Bankai pink?" –Byakuya Kuchiki CRACK

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"Seriously, Byakuya, why is your Bankai pink?"

His eye twitched at the question, and the esteemed Kuchiki head glanced at Ichigo, currently blindingly drunk and getting drunker. They were all out together, and he had gone as well, at the insistence of both his Lieutenant and his sister. But this was noisy, and hot, and dark, and _why is Rangiku's chest falling out of her top—I swear to God—_

"Yeah, that's a good question," Renji added, his arm tossed lazily around Ichigo's shoulders, his eyes wild and his grin mischievous. "_Pink?_"

Byakuya was going to beat the shit out of the insolent boor of a human for the question, but now he was staring at Renji with something like betrayal and homicide in his eyes.

"Abarai—" he started—

"My Bankai is big and long and scary!" Renji went on, then proceeded to make a hissing noise like Zabimaru's. Then he jerked a thumb at Ichigo and started to splutter laughter. "And Ichigo's is black and tiny!" He slapped his knees like he'd just told the best joke ever, and Ichigo's face colored up red.

"Yeah—but Zangetsu's normally huge!" he defended himself, flailing his arms wildly. He gripped the sword handle behind his shoulder and started to release it. "Look, see—"

Then Kyoraku—when did he get here?—was laughing and slapping both of them on the backs of their heads. "Comparing Bankais isn't gentlemanly, boys!"

Kira and Shunsui, after nodding in drunken deference to the equally-wasted Captain, leaned in conspiratorially. "What about Captain Kyoraku's Bankai? Have you ever seen it? You think it's big?—But wait, he's got two swords!"

The pink-clad Captain, giving them a wide and naughty grin, started to answer, but Nanao, appearing at his shoulder, pushed up her glasses and took him by his collar. "Captain, you are embarrassing yourself," she stated coldly.

"Ah, Nanao~ " the Captain leered at her and threw an arm around her shoulders, bringing her close. "Ah, Nanao, my sweet! Yes, take me home~!"

The Lieutenant, not amused by her Captain's singing, swung her hand over and struck him in the juncture of his neck and shoulder, knocking him out cold. He slumped against her shoulder; she hefted him up and glared at the rest of the company before stomping out of the bar.

"I bet her Bankai's terrifying," Ichigo whispered to Renji in the subsequent silence, eyes wide.

"But not _pink_," Renji giggled back like a fool.

"Scatter, Senbonzakura," came the dark and lilting voice of his Captain, finally fed up with their antics.

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_fin._

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A/N: lololol **review** if you love abusing byakuya


	47. Chapter 47

A/N: seriously, i have the hardest time deciding who to ship her with the most. sigh, #otakuproblems

A/N: i don't know what OC means, but i think it means you can pick which character? lol, i should know this.

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: the fairest one in the land

**Summary**: Ichigo's the one to give her away. –Ichigo, Orihime, OC

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"You look beautiful, Inoue," he says, and she smiles, because it doesn't break her for him to say that, anymore.

"Thank you, Kurosaki-kun."

She is radiant: the fairest one in the land, today—in a veil and flowers and white lace, sunshine curls around her face and perceptive grey eyes dewy with emotion. She's got a blue garter and flowers in her soft, ladylike hands. And he's standing in a tuxedo, looking handsome and strong and a little uncomfortable in a tie, but he's doing this for her, because today is her special day. She asked him for this, with the smallest of smiles and the absolute contentment of a girl who's going to spend the rest of her life in the arms of the man she loves.

"No cold feet?" he teases gently; he knows the answer.

"Of course not," she shakes her head with a smile.

They hear music drift in, soft, lilting, beckoning. This is their cue.

"Let's go, Inoue," he murmurs, and he offers her his arm.

When they throw open the doors of the cathedral, everything is perfect. Flowers everywhere, her loved ones dressed their best, all of them in awe of her as she begins her procession on Ichigo's arm. He whispers funny little things in her ear to make her heart beat a little more calmly, but nothing, nothing has prepared her for this. She's staring down the aisle, and _he's_ standing there with something akin to reverence in his eyes—and she wants to blush all the way down to her toes—but she also wants to sing—and she wants to copulate like bunnies right then and there, so in love and so alive it's unreal.

"We're almost there," Ichigo says, noting her expression, to which she offers a small nod and gulps.

They reach the altar, and Ichigo hands her off, as a father would to a daughter—but today he is her former Protector giving her to her new one. His hand joins her groom's to hers, and she gives him one last, adoring look, the same looks she gave him as a child when they charged into adventure after adventure, but this time it is good-bye. She imagines that far, far in the future, she'll sit with her daughter and tell her about the very first boy she ever loved. And she'll be able to say, with the strength of a goddess, that he was only the beginning.

"Thank you, Kurosaki-kun," she whispers gently, before turning herself toward her future.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…"

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fin.

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A/N: tell me in a **review**- who do YOU think is waiting for Inoue at the end of the aisle? (i secretly thought of making it Grimmjow to mess with everyone's heads)


	48. Chapter 48

A/N: i'm a perv and i couldn't help myself, lololol.

A/N: also, i love you guys and your reviews so much, it makes me cry a lot like an idiot

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: aye, captain

**Summary**: He congratulates her on her promotion. WITH HIS BODY. –Ichigo/Rukia CRACK

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Rukia flitted in through Ichigo's window, predictably, in the middle of the night.

He'd felt the presence of a large Hollow earlier in the evening, but he had homework to do and a test in the morning, and he trusted her, a Lieutenant now, to handle it herself. He bent to his task, keeping one ear open in case he heard or felt trouble coming from her direction. Comfortably seated at his desk, he opened Homer's _Illiad_—

That's when Isshin struck.

And now, Rukia was leaping in with her lithe body in the dark of his room, sighing and preparing to wake the idiot up to have a short visit before she returned to Soul Society. She stumbled through the dark for a couple seconds, making her way to the light on the wall by his door, and she mercilessly turned the overhead on, turning and grinning widely—"Hey, Ichigo! Wake up—"

But he was tied up on his bed, gagged, and glaring at her with cheeks aflame like the strawberry he is. But that's not what made her stop.

He was in nothing but a pair of _bunny-patterned boxers_.

"Ichigo?!" she gasped, backing away immediately. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Askdaeroigjavskvwogjvdlk," he answered inarticulately, with the gag in his mouth.

She wasn't sure for several minutes whether she should approach or not, but eventually she inched across the room so she could release him from his bounds. When she got closer, she noticed written on his chest _in chocolate_—

_Congratulations on your promotion, Rukia-chan!_

_Love, Daddy_

—and the idiot even had the gall to make a misshapen chocolate heart next to his signature.

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_fin._

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A/N: what even is this? i don't know, but i love **reviews**


	49. Chapter 49

A/N: Hanataro is adorable, i just wanna wrap him up and speak sweetly to him.

A/N: summary from the film _Troy_

__A/N: and thanks to you guys who told me what OC means, lol. i'ms a dummy

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: the Illiad

**Summary**: I hope when they speak of me, they'll say I walked with giants. –Hanataro

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He has bruises on his shoulders, from where they bump into him. He has bruises on his heart, from where they do not acknowledge they have bumped into him.

_/I am small, they don't mean to./_

But this is Soul Society, things are supposed to be different here, and it isn't really—not until he meets her. The Princess in the tower, with sad eyes and stories in her mouth. She's the first, other than his Captain, to remember his name.

"Thank you, Hanataro."

_/That's all it takes./_

And something lights inside him, though he's quiet and unassuming. Those simple words, her eyes on his face—they make him able to do anything for her. He tries to save her, or help, at least a little bit, until her Champion arrives.

And my goodness—what a champion! He's twice Hanataro's height, and handsome, and red-haired like some kind of alien king. And he, too, looks down from his towering height, blinking at him. At him, who's never done anything worth blinking at.

But there's a thank you in his mouth too, for the Princess's sake.

_/What a giant./_

And he goes to the Human World for the first time since his death, and it's a new beginning! Finally, there's no one to bump into him, just customers and orders to be filled, and a boss to keep happy—and suddenly there's a visitor, a man from Soul Society also—Ganju. Hanataro is not afraid of him, and he shows him the ropes of living in the Human World. They laugh together; the bigger man claps him on the back in friendship.

_/I won't be squashed like a bug./_

And now, even people like Lieutenant Yachiru and Lieutenant Abarai know him; he's not just the boy in the corner, waiting to offer, feebly, a bandaid. And then comes the day Captain Kuchiki arrives, calling for him.

"I remember you," he says quietly, his eyes all-seeing. He looks so much more handsome now, like a god. A giant. "We're going to Hueco Mundo."

_/This is my chance./_

This time, he's the one who stands by the Princess, in that ice-room in the Hollow dimension; Captain Kuchiki fights down the Arrancar, and Hanataro follows his orders to the T. The Princess is wide-eyed and blank, bloodied, and Hanataro wonders where her Champion is, what is he doing, why isn't he here? He clutches her hand, pieces her back together.

When eventually she wakes, there is another thank you in her mouth, and it's poetry pouring into his ears.

_/I would do anything, for you./_

"What do you want people to say about you, Hanataro?" the Princess asks him one day, in Soul Society. Since knowing her, he grasps at any chance to speak easily with her, whether it's casually bumping into each other on the streets, or not-so-casually finding himself at the Squad Thirteen barracks.

She's blinking at him, and even that is amazing, somehow.

He ducks his head, flushes. "I don't know."

"Oh come on, there's something." Her eyes drift away from him. "I hope people say of me that I could do my duty."

Hanataro looks at her, and he's the most surprised that he isn't crying at the softness of her words. "I hope when they speak of me, they'll say I walked with giants."

_/Her answering smile is a giant./_

_._

_._

_._

_fin._

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A/N: d'aww hana-chan. **review**, please!


	50. Chapter 50

A/N: 50! whew!

A/N: lyrics from "my father's father" by the civil wars

* * *

**Drabble collection:** when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: your life on my altar

**Summary**: He would not surrender himself to any other. –Rukia/Ichigo

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_/So here's my hope, my tired soul_

_So here's my ticket,_

_I want to go home/_

He imagines that when he finally died, she would be there.

_You fool_, she'd say brusquely to the old man in his dying clothes when he greets her. He likes to think that even as he lay in his hospital bed, barely able to breathe, she would look as young and fresh-faced as ever, hovering over him in her black uniform. Would her hair be longer? Shorter? Will she have new scars?—the thought makes him sad.

And he would smile back, tender in his years and his wrinkles, though she was so much older than him.

They might chat, even, as she waits and watches him die. (_Love is watching someone die_—she'd said once.)

_I'm glad it's you_, he'd tell her.

_Of course._

_If Renji had shown up—or God forbid, Byakuya—I would have stayed alive. (Until you got here—)_

The pretty Soul Reaper might smile bitterly. _Should I leave?_

With an old, wrinkly hand, he'd reach for her, though without her gigai, he could not touch. _No. I want it to be you_. The old man in the bed sighs, settling his eyes comfortably on her. _Don't be upset, Rukia._

_I'm not_, she says stubbornly, knitting her brows. _I'm dead too, after all_. Then her voice lowers. _I died as a child._

The image is cruel to him—the image of a smaller, perhaps chubbier, and much less grave Rukia, lying cold and dead. _I know_, he says.

_I'm glad it's me too_, she'd say, though she hadn't needed to say it.

_This is peaceful_, he'd comment a few minutes later, in bad taste.

_That's what they say_. Then her eyes would smile, though her lips cannot. _Just wait till your Academy days, there's no peace there._ A tear finds itself on her cheek.

He takes note. _Rukia?_

She hisses an intake of breath, as if she's been stabbed. As if she's the one dying. _I'm just glad—you lived._

_Thanks to you,_ a wry smile.

But she's shaking her head. She'll never believe that. (He'll vow to make her believe it—_every single day from now on_.)

_See you soon_, would be his last words.

She's the one who sends him to Soul Society for the last time.

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_fin._

* * *

A/N: please **review**


	51. Chapter 51

A/N: hi there! i'm sorry i haven't posted in the last couple days, my life is such that i haven't been able to write. so, i'll probably be posting just one more piece for this collection (after the present one), and that'll be that. it's been a joy, and thank you for everything, my dears.

A/N: set the night of the Grimmjow's fist

* * *

**Drabble collection**: When in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: the shape of my fantasies

**Summary**: But you're just so small. –Ichigo/Rukia

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The first time he sees her draw her sword, he thinks, _but you're so small._

"Dance, Sodenoshirayuki," she says, her eyes half-lidded but still so frightening.

She looks like a pro, like she's been doing this since the beginning of time. Her hair flutters a little bit in the wake of her power—he couldn't remember, even if he squinted, seeing her sword that first night they met. He only knows that the Hollow had clamped its maws around her body.

He winces. _So small._

She's not for this, he wants to believe. She's not for battle, for charging down some monster so big her bones wouldn't suit for a toothpick. Yet there she is—Rukia, all four feet or whatever she is, her sleeves billowing out like wings.

A cage of ice freezes over, and for a moment, he shudders to think what her bankai would be, when she reaches it. Could she handle a bankai? He tries to remember Toshiro's dragon, purring at his shoulders, tries to remember that despite his age and height, he is a Captain.

There she is, defying his logic again.

The monster wails—Ichigo flinches—Rukia sheathes her sword without batting an eyelash. She's a little foreign to him for several minutes, though he hates to think that this entire time he'd considered her weak. He glances down at his empty hands—_You're just so unbearably small—_but when he looks at her again, her body is elegant, a tiny, slender slip of darkness and pale skin on the street of Karakura. She's a Kuchiki, a Shinigami older than he can comprehend.

_But you're so small—!_ He wants to fight this new side of her. _How could you also be so—so—_

She glances over her shoulder at him, meets his querying eye. "Ichigo." Her voice is deep and serious, as always. It comes from a soul much larger than he can grasp with his hands.

_You're just so much._

_._

_._

_._

_fin._

* * *

A/N: please **review**


	52. Chapter 52

A/N: hello my dears; last time i said this would be the last in my collection, but i've decided to amend my statement. from now on, i'll take requests for this collection, for any pairing, and that's how i'll continue. this way, i'll have some more ideas for my empty head, and i'll know i have interested readers. thank you all for your support thus far, and i hope you decide to message me with some requests!

A/N: this is my last non-request-based drabble, set after episode 366.

* * *

**Drabble collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: once upon a time

**Summary**: Love came for me at the edge of a sword. –Ichigo/Rukia

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She plunged a sword into his gut and changed his world.

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(_I'm Kuchiki Rukia_, she'd said, smiling softly, though her brow was wet with sweat and her shoulder was seeping dark blood.

The monsters were always on her heels, yet she still managed to joke and tease him, as lighthearted as any of his classmates. And her drawings of bunnies were just so very ridiculous. _How? How? How?_ He wanted to ask, but he couldn't make the words come out, not for a long time.)

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"Rukia is my life-changer," he'd told many people, with the crack of a smile and a stare out a window.

The others would look surprised by his bold statement—did he really understand how much that gave away?—and yet, the pregnant look in his eyes seemed to tell them, yes, yes he does, he knows very well.

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(This was the look he gave her back there, back in Soul Society, when she was prepared to die to keep him normal, and he'd defied her yet again to come and deliver her life. He was wearing a cape and he had a new sword ready.

_Idiot_, she'd called him, an apology and a curse in her mouth. _I told you to stay safe._

_Just let me save you_, he told her, _and shut up._)

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"Isn't love supposed to be about princesses in towers and knights on white steeds?" his classmates wondered, asked one another. "Isn't love supposed to be fun, bright, about togetherness and about families and houses of your own?"

But Ichigo was standing there with a Death Reaper at his shoulder, a girl they could only occasionally see, a girl with ice leaking from her pores and big eyes that had seen too much violence for any number of lifetimes. This was not a pink, blushing love. It was love on the edge of life, too fierce for the every day, because it could burn up a body and a soul without a blink.

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(_Ichigo!_ She'd never bothered with honorifics. Can you call someone _–kun_, or _–san_, when they are practically your own soul? Her brother raised his eyebrows at the familiarity of his tone. Isshin called her his third daughter. His sisters sat with her at the dinner table, and trusted their brother to her.

Yes, yes, there was ferocity here, but there was tenderness too.)

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"How did she change your life?" someone asked him.

He didn't hesitate. "She showed me death and life."

Still, he had spoken no words of beauty, or poetry, or roses, or moonlight. Keigo frowned, then decided to ask an incendiary question.

"So, where is she?"

"I don't know."

Everyone stared. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"Exactly that."

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(Death, life, fear, despair, hope, trust, peace, and o_ne white-hot blinding, blinding light_.

He'd never seen her dressed for a date, or with romantic stars in her eyes. In his mind, she was always in the unisex Seireitei uniform, her hair brushing just past her shoulders, oh so very splendid just like that, splendid all the way down to her bones.)

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"Is she coming back?"

Ichigo shrugged his shoulders.

Keigo was exasperated. "How can you love someone if you don't know if you'll ever see them again?"

Ichigo wasn't bothered by his question. Instead, he put his chin in his hand and looked him directly in the eye. There was more peace there than they had seen in a long time.

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(He did not retain the image of her fading before his eyes or the sound of the Senkaimon slamming shut behind him; rather, he could see her lithe form leaping into action, yet again, to block an enemy's attack or to throw her body in the way. He can see her arrival; he can see her in a square of light, hands on hips, daring him.

What is absence, next to her? What is loneliness, to them?

_If you come after me, I'll never forgive you._ So, this time, he wouldn't. He'd trust her judgment. He'd trust the universe.)

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"How can I not love someone, just because I'll never see her again?" he asked quietly.

Tatsuki was taken aback; she stepped physically away from her childhood friend, and tears threatened to bubble to her eyes. She touched her face, trembling a little at the suddenness of her emotion.

"You really have changed," she said to him. And then she asked, even softer, "Is this what love does?"

He was silent for a long time, but then he was very serious when he told her: "Love came for me at the edge of a sword. And then she handed that sword to me."

Suddenly he smiled a smile more brilliant than they'd known he was capable of, and they all gaped, looking like ridiculous fish out of water. His palm came unconsciously to the left side of his chest.

"She's going to want that sword back."

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(She pulled apart the monsters with her bare hands, and she showed him that their insides were hollow.

_See?_ She smiled. _Nothing to be afraid of_. Then she gestured to him. _Now, your turn_.)

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"I'll wait patiently for that day," the boy said, more to himself than to the others, more to her than to himself.

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(_This won't be the last time I say, see you later!_

_You're right._)

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_fin._

* * *

A/N: thank you again, my loves. i hope you've enjoyed this as much as i have.


	53. Chapter 53

A/N: well, you asked for it byakuya/hisana, and here we go! to change it up a bit, i wrote this in first person; byakuya and hisana rarely get an authentic first person for themselves, so i decided to try it. i made up a bunch of stuff, but i hope you think it's still in character. again, i'm doing requests only now, so send me a pairing, a word, a situation, whatever, and i'll see what i can do! you can do so by review or PM.

A/N: title from Eduardo C. Corral's collection of poetry

* * *

**collection**: when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

* * *

**Title**: slow lightning

**Summary**: Remember me this way. –Byakuya/Hisana

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(Don't leave, please)

(I wouldn't leave you)

(Then why are you dying?)

(Remember me this way, and I'll remember you thus—)

/ / /

My wife's hips are a garden.

Stories tell us that women are like fairies; they drift around the white moon, illuminated with long sleeves and longer hair. But my wife is of the earth. I can rake my fingertips across the smooth basin of her stomach and come away with fresh green under my nails.

_My love_, she starts, but I am the one to say, _I am yours._

(I will rest my head in the soft skin of your body, and I will sleep soundly)

/ / /

My husband stares, and he is silent. _Beautiful_, his eyes say, _this is love_. But I can look back at him and smile warmly, forgetting my shame.

(There is a babe in the street, wailing, wailing for the kind hands that never come)

My husband is a god. He rules my kingdom with a firm but gentle hand. I submit to him in all things; I know his fierocity, the grey eyes that slice and burn but also rove smoothly over me, as water over an ancient weathered pebble.

_(You are_—I want to say—you are everything, so much of everything that I would offer up my greatest shame to you)

/ / /

The Rukongai is a pit. It stinks, it chafes, it festers. This is where I found her, this is where she lived for years. She's a sturdy girl, she's not delicate, not really; she's weathered storms I cannot fathom, though I have faced bone masks twice my own size, the Hollow face of evil that seeks to swallow me whole. Yet I have never feared.

I remember that starvation exists, when I look at her.

(You'll never be that way again)

/ / /

I imagine that he thinks I am a lady. I am not. I have fought, tooth and nail, for bread in the streets. I have lain cold and frightened under bridges. I have abandoned a baby sister to the wilderness.

(My sister, my sin, my shame)

Do you know, husband, the feeling of dirt, so caked into your skin that it becomes a second layer of your soul? The dirt is always within me, I can never wash it off. Though I scrub and I scrub here in your magnificent mansion, I still dirty your bed sheets and your dinner table. See the tracks of mud I leave at your doorstep: this is your wife.

(My husband, my love, my pride, my self)

/ / /

I have asked her only once if she was a virgin before coming to my bed. My wife did not smile, did not hesitate to speak, softly, her head bent low. _My lord—_

_Do not call me that_, I interrupt, my voice terrible and coarse; _please, call me by my name._

(What if—the creeping darkness, the groans, the money exchanging hands)

Her eyes are so soft, so soft, dripping with things I will not hear. A sound like rain, or like brilliant white winds, overtakes my ears, and I cannot recall now the exact tone, pitch, and rhythm of her voice as it closes around my name. She is silent.

/ / /

But there is this, too: the way my husband looks, first thing in the mornings. I am the only one to have seen him this way, and this is the thing I treasure above all else.

(—I'm sorry, sister. I cannot abandon this man)

His morning ritual includes lying by my side until I wake, which is also early. He leans over me on his left elbow, his whole body supported in the strength of his arm, and I can look, unabashedly, at the way he is coiled and rippling: this is my husband.

His mouth is softest at these times. His mouth is like a pale flower petal, yielding under my fingers, kissing my hand in welcome. He does not don the Kuchiki robes, the face of an aristocrat, an important man, a leader of men, the best of the best: this is my husband.

His hair is just a little bit ruffled, a black bird before it takes off in flight.

_I am yours._

/ / /

(I am yours)

(Don't leave)

(Don't forget)

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_fin._

* * *

A/N: enjoy it? let me know in a **review**


	54. Chapter 54

A/N: so i had a request for some ishihime? i'm sorry if this isn't strictly romantic; they're also difficult for me to write.

A/N: thanks for the requests, btw, guys, i love em. i'm working diligently on them. (also: i don't know if noitra/nel is going to happen; it's just so hard and weird for me, idk? lemme see...)

A/N: #tbt is a twitter thing for throwback thursday, or throwback tuesday, whichever.

* * *

**collection:** when in doubt, bleach it out

_We are the sum of our experiences. We do not tremble. We do not fall. We conquer. -full cast, at various points_

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**Title**: #tbt

**Summary**: Inoue finds Ishida's baby pics. –Ishihime

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"Ishida-kun! You're so cute!"

Unequivocal terror, then—another high-pitched squeal of delight erupted from his room. Ishida coughed and pushed up his glasses, trying to shove the dread back down his throat.

"Inoue-san, please don't—"

"OMG, YOUR LITTLE PLEATED SHORTS." She giggled and kicked her heels, tossed her long hair back over her shoulder, where it spilled and filled the room like the cloak of kings. But this was Inoue, thoughtless, pretty Inoue, laughing on the floor in his bedroom, and the sight was amazing and overwhelming somehow.

"I thought you came to visit a poor sick fellow student," he offered weakly now from his bed, where he was entrenched in blankets and surrounded by weird snacks she'd brought him. She'd come over right after school, arriving without calling, so very comfortable here, just knocking quickly before busting in the door, half-crying, half-smiling, saying how glad she was that he was alright and did he need another blanket, and could she get him some tea?

Half an hour later, Inoue glanced up from one of the many photo albums she had stacked around her. She didn't look even a little bit repentant; if Ishida had to guess, she'd learned that semi-mischievous grin from Rukia. He hadn't really learned how to deal with this new face.

"I'm just trying to cheer you up, Ishida-kun," she smiled, lowering her pretty long lashes and turning the page. She looked down at proceeded to (unsuccessfully) stifle a laugh. "Aw, Ishida-kun, you look so scared here! Is this the first day of preschool?"

"Inoue-san, you're just cheering yourself up," he started, pushing his glasses up again in a futile attempt at control.

"Oh, this one is my ultimate favorite!" she suddenly cried, racing over to the bed, where she bounced next to him in her fantastic skin and hair and _body_. Ishida gave a little yelp in surprise, but she didn't notice. She jerked the book down between them and pointed. "How old are you here?"

Ishida, after scooting himself a respectful distance away from Inoue's, um, _assets_, looked down at the photograph. This one was old, probably one of the oldest ones in the books; there stood all three Ishida men together, in a rare moment of solidarity. Ishida himself was just a toddler, barely out of diapers, and Sokken was jiggling him up and down on his knee, looking so pleased and proud to be a granddad. Next to him, Ryuuken watched, his knees and arms crossed but his body relaxed, and a half-smile resting on his lips. Touching yes, but somehow the picture was also alien to him: Ishida couldn't even remember a time when this kind of scenario was possible.

But before he could frown and close the book firmly, Inoue leaned back dreamily, smiling at him. "You're so lucky, Ishida-kun," she murmured. "This is a treasure. This is proof of love."

"The photo?" he spluttered stupidly, blinking at the pretty way her mouth was turning, tasting her own words.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, leaning forward again, leaning into him. Ishida wanted to protest on account of his cold, but before he could, Inoue was talking again: "Photographs show who you really love and who really love you." And now pretty Inoue, pretty Inoue with her long orange hair and fantastic body and beautiful words, stood and started for the door—when had she gotten all the way across the room?

"When you get well again, let's take some pictures together!"

Ishida hesitated, but caught in the gentleness of her bright, hopeful eyes, he nodded. A smile worked its way to his mouth too. "Yes, of course."

Inoue parted, but not before saying over her shoulder, "I'll be back tomorrow—I've still got to work through the grade school pictures!"

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_fin._

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A/N: ooh girl, you know what to do (reviewreview**review**)


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